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4 5 6 



BY CY WARMAN 

SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 

A Slory of the Great Burlington Strike 
12mo. Cloth, $1.25 

THE STORY OF THE RAILROAD 

(The Story of the West Series.) 
Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, §1.50 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY 
NEW YORK 



SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 



y 



s^ 



SNOW ON THE 
HEADLIOHT 



a ® torp of tbt (3ttat 
15utlin0ton ©tribe 



H Y C Y VV A U M A N 

AUTHOR OF THE STORY OF THE RAILROAD, THE 

EXPilESS ME8SEKGER, TALES OF AN ENGINEER, 

FRONTIER STORIES, ETC. 



^^^ 



I13etti gotb 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
MDCCCXCIX 





mss;>* 






Copyright, 180!), by I). Appletoii & (Jo. 






I 






1; 



^ P R E F A C E 5^ 



IF 

Here is a Decoy Duck stuffed with Oysters, 

The Duck is mere Fiction: 

The Oysters are Facts. 

IF 

If you find the Duck wholesonw, and the 
Oysters hurt you, it is prohahly because you 
had a hand in the making of this bit of 
History, and in the creation of these Facts. 

THE AUTHOR 



AC 



r 



r / 

w o 



SNOW ON THE 
^HEADLIGHT5<^ 

CHAPTER FIRST 



IjrooD inanatrer:. are made from messen- 
ger boys, brakemen, wipers and telegraph- 
eis; just as brave admiral, are produced 
in due time by planting a cadet in a naval 
school. From two branches of the service 
come the best equipped men in the railroad 
world — from the motive-power department 
and from the train service. This one came 
from the mechanical department, and he 
spent his official life trying to conceal the 
fact — striving to be just to all his em- 
ployees and to show no partiality towards 
the department from whence he sprang — 
but always failing. 

" These men will not strike," he contended : 
"The brains of the train are in the engine." 
" O, I don't think," Mr. Josler, the general 
superintendent, would say ; and if you fol- 

[1 ] 



/ 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 



lowed his accent it would take you ri^lit 
back to the heart of Germany : " Giff nie a 
goot conductor, an' I git over the roat." 
No need to ask where he came from. 
As the grievance grew in the hands of the 
"grief" committee, and the belief became 
fixed in the n\inds of the officials that the 
employees were h)oking for trouble, the 
situation waxed critical. " Might as well 
make a clean job of it," the men would say ; 
and then every man who had a grievance, a 
wound where there had been a grievance or 
a fear that he might have something to com- 
plain of in the future, contributed to the real 
original grievance until the trouble grew so 
that it appalled the officials and caused them 
to stiffen their necks. In this way the men 
and the management were being wedged 
farther and farther apart. Finally, the gen- 
eral manager, foreseeing what war would 
cost the company and the employees, made 
an effort to reach a settlement, but the very 
effort was taken as evidence of weakness, 

[2] 



' n 






»■ 



^5 CHAPTER I SO^ 



and instead of yielding soniethinj^ the men 
took courage, and lengthened the hst of 
grievances. His predecessor had said to the 
president of the company when the hist 
settlement was effected: "This is our last 
compromise. Tlie next time we shall have to 
fight — my back is to the wall." Rut, when the 
time came for the struggle, he had not the 
heart to make the fight, and so resigned and 
went west, where he died shortly afterwards, 
and dying, escaped the sorrow that nuist 
have been his had he lived to see how his old, 
much-loved employees were made to suffer. 
Now the grievance con nittee came with an 
ultimatum to the management. "Yes, or 
No?" demanded the chairman with a Na- 
poleonic pose. But the general superinten- 
dent was loth to answer. 
" Yes, or No ? " 

Mr. Josler hesitated, equivocated, and asked 
to be allowed to confer with his chief. 
" Yes, or No ? " demanded the fearless leader, 
lifting his hand Hke an auctioneer. 

[3] 



/ 



t 

^ 



n 



111 



1- ! 



?|i 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



" Veil, eef you put it so, I must suy No," 
said the superintendent and instantly the 
leader turned on his heel. He did not take 
the troiible to say good-day, but snapped 
his finger and strode away. 
Now the other members of the committee 
got up and went oat, pausing to say good 
morning to the superintendent who stood 
up to watch the procession pass out into 
the wide hall. One man, who confirmed 
the general manager's belief that there were 
brains among the engire-men, lingered to 
express liis regrets that the conference 
should have ended so abruptly. 
The news of this man's audacity spread 
among the higher officials, so that wheri 
the heads of the brotherhoods came — 
which is a last resort — the company were 
almost as haughty and remote as the head 
of the grievance committee had been. 
From that moment the men and the man- 
agement lost faith in each other. More, 
they refused even to understand each other. 

[ 4 ] 



I 1 



i 

I • '- 



\ 



i \ 



h^ 



^ CHAPTER 1 SO^ 



No," 
y the 
, take 
apped 

nittee 
good 
stood 
b into 
irmed 
; were 
•ed to 
erenee 

;pread 
wlieii 
me — 
were 
head 

man- 
More, 
other. 




Whichever side made a shght concession it 
was made to suiter for it, for such an act 
was sure to be interpreted by the other side 
as a Sxgn of weakening. In vain did tlie 
iieads of tlie two organizations, represent- 
ing tiie engine-men, strive to oveicome the 
mischief done by the local committee, and 
to reach a settlement. They showed, by 
comparison, that this, the smartest road in 
the West, was paying a lower late of wages 
to its engine-men than was paid by a major- 
ity of i.'i railroads of the country. They 
urged the injustice of the classification of 
engineers, but the management claimed that 
the system Avas just, and later received the 
indorsement, on this point, of eight-tenths 
of the daily press. Plight out of ten of these 
editors knew nothing of the real merits or 
demerits of the system, but they thought 
they knew, and so they wrote about it, the 
people read about it and gave or withheld 
their sympathy as the news aifected them.. 
When the heads of the brotherhoods an- 

[5 ] 






/I 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



I \i 



I I'. 



I 



il 

^■1 



!l 



if 



t, > 



nounced their inability to reach an agree- 
ment they were allowed to return to their 
respective homes, beyond the borders of the 
big state, and out of reach of the Illinois 
conspiracy law. A local man "with sand to 
fight" was chosen commander-in-chief, and 
after one more formal effort to reach a set- 
tlement he called the men out. 
On a blowy Sunday afternoon in February 
the chief clerk received a wire calling him 
to the office of the general manager. He 
found his chief pacing the floor. As the sec- 
retary entered, the general manager turned, 
faced him, and then, waving a hand over the 
big flat-topped desk that stood in the centre 
of his private office, said : " Take this all 
away, John. The engineers are going to 
strike and I want nothing to come to my 
desk that does not relate to that, until this 
fight is over." 

Noting the troubled, surprised look upon 
the secretary's face the manager called him. 
" Come here John. Are you afraid ? Does 

[6] 












%'l 



^ CHAPTER I ^ 






-■1 

m 



the magnitude of it all appal you — do you 
want to quit ? If you do say so now." 
As he spoke the piercing, searching eyes of 
the general manager swept the very soul of 
his secretary. The two men looked at each 
other. Instantly the shadow passed from the 
long, sad face of the clerk, and in its place 
sat an expression of calm determination. 
Now the manager spoke not a word, but 
reaching for the hand of his faithful assis- 
tant, pressed it firmly, and turned away. 
There was no spoken pledge, no vow, no 
promise of loyalty, but in that mute hand- 
clasp there was an oath of allegiance. 
At four o'clock on the following morning — 
Monday, February the 27th, 1888, — every 
locomotive engineer and fireman in the ser- 
vice of the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy 
Railroad Company quit work. The fact that 
not one man remained in the service an 
hour after the order went out, shows how 
firmly fixed was the faith of the men in the 
abiUty of the "Twin Brotherhoods" to beat 

[7 ] 






i 



i;f i 






1! 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

the company, and how universal was the 
belief that their cause was just. All trains in 
motion at the moment when the strike was 
to take effect were run to their destination, 
or to divisional stations, rather, and there 
abandoned by the crew. 
The conductors, brakemen and baggage- 
men were not in the fight, and when di- 
rected by the officials to take the engines 
and try to run them or fire them, they 
found it hard to refuse to obey the order. 
Some of them had no thought of refusing, 
but cheerfully took the engines out, and — 
drowned them. That was a wild, exciting day 
for the officials, but it was soon forgotten in 
days that made that one seem like a pleas- 
ant dream. 

The long struggle that had been going on 
openly between the officials and the em- 
ployees was now enacted privately, silently, 
deep in the souls of men. Each individ- 
ual must face the situation and decide for 
himself upon which side he would enlist. 

[8] 



LS the 
tins in 
:e was 
lation, 
there 



Tgage- 
en di- 



^ CHAPTER I ^ 




ng on 
le em- 
lently, 
divid- 
de for 
enlist. 



M 



:,1 




Hundreds of men who had good positions 
and had, personaUy, no grievance, felt in 
honor bound to stand by their brothers, and 
these men were the heroes of the strike, for 
it is infinitely finer to fight for others than 
for one's self. When a man has toiled for a 
quarter of a century to gain a comfortable 
place it is not without a struggle that he 
tlirows it all over, in an unselfish effort to 
help a brother on. The Brotherhood of Loco- 
motive Engineers had grown to be respected 
by the public because of almost countless 
deeds of individual heroism. It was deferred 
to — and often encouraged by railway offi- 
cials, because it had improved the service 
a thousand per cent. The man who chmbed 
down from the cab that morning on the 
"Q " was as far ahead of the man who held 
the seat twenty years earlier, as an English 
captain is ahead of the naked savage whose 
bare feet beat the sands of the Soudan. 
By keeping clear of entanghng alliances 
and carefully avoiding serious trouble, the 

[9] 




I ; 



I 



s 



i I 



■■}^■'• 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Brotherhood had, in the past ten years, 
piled up hundreds of thousands of dollars. 
This big roll of the root of all evil served 
now to increase the confidence of the lead- 
ers, and to encourage the men to strike. 
At each annual convention mayors, gov- 
ernors and prominent public men paraded 
the virtues of the Brotherhood until its 
members came to regard themselves as just 
a little bit bigger, braver and better than 
ordinary mortals. Public speakers and writ- 
ers were for ever predicting that in a little 
while the Brotherhood would be invinci- 
ble.* And so, hearing only good report of 
itself the Brotherhood grew over-confident, 
and entered this great fight top-heavy be- 



*"I dare say that the engineers' strike will end, as all strikes 
have hitherto ended, in disaster to the strikers. But I am sure 
that strikes will not always end so. It is only a question of 
time, and of a very little time, till the union of labor shall be 
so perfect that nothing can defeat it. We may say this will be 
a very good time or a very bad time ; all the same it is com- 
- W. D. Howells, in Harper's Weekly, April 21, 



ing. - 
1888. 



[10] 



fl 






years, 
dollars. 

served 

e lead- 

ke. 

s, gov- 

3araded 

ntil its 

as just 
er than 
id writ- 

a little 
invinci- 
iport of 
Infident, 

,vy be- 

all strikes 
I am sure 
uestion of 
shall he 
his will he 
it is corn- 
April 21 f 




^ CHAPTER I S^ 







■;i! 



f 



cause of an exaggerated idea of its own 
greatness. 

The Enirineers' Brotherhood was not loved 
by other organizations. The conductors dis- 
liked it, and it had made itself offensive to 
the firemen because of its persistent refusal 
to federate or affiliate in any manner with 
other organizations having similar aims and 
objects. But now, finding itself in the midst 
of a hard fight, it evinced a desire to com- 
bine. The brakemen refused to join the en- 
ginemen, though sympathizing with them, 
but the switchmen were easily persuaded. 
The switchman of a decade ago could al- 
ways be counted upon to fight. In behind 
his comb, toothbrush and rabbit's foot, he 
carried a neatly folded, closely written list 
of grievances upon which he was ready to 
do battle. Peace troubled his mind. 
Some one signed a solemn compact in 
which the engineers bound themselves to 
support the switchmen — paying them as 
often as the enginemen drew money — and 

[11 ] 






I ;! 



I I 



! I 



i t 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 

the switchmen went out. They struck vig- 
orously, and to a man, and remained loyal 
long after the Brotherhood had broken its 
pledge and cut off the pay of the strikers.''*' 
In this battle the switchmen were the brav- 
est of the brave. 

At the end of the first month of the strike 
the lines were pretty well drawn. There was 
no neutral ground for employees. A man 
was either with the company or with the 
strikers. 

* At the annual convention held at Atlanta, in the autumn of 
that year (1888) the engineers dropped the sympathy -strik- 
ing switchmen from the pay roll, at the same time increasing 
the pay of striking engineers from $Jfi,00 to $50.00 a month. 



[12] 



htS^ 



CHAPTER SECOND 



uck vig- 
ed loyal 
oken its 
strikers.''*' 
the brav- 

he strike 

'here was 

A man 

with the 



\e autumn of 

\tipathy-strik- 

ie increasing 

00 a month. 



IjrooD morning, John," said the general 
manager coming softly through tiie little 
gate that fenced off a small reservation in 
the outer office, and beyond which the sec- 
retary and his assistants worked : " How 
goes the battle?" 

"Well, on the whole," said the chief clerk, 
gathering up a batch of telegrams that 
made up the official report from the vari- 
ous division superintendents; "it was a 
rough night. Three yard engines disabled in 
the Chicago yards, freight train burned at 
BurHngton, head-end coUision on the B. & 
M. Division, two engineers and one fireman 
killed, ware-house burned at Peoria, two 
bridges blown up in Iowa, two trains 
ditched near Denver, three — " 
"Well! well!" broke in the general man- 
ager, "that will do." The clerk stopped 
short, the office boy passed out through 
the open door and a great swell of silence 
surged into the room. 

[ 13 ] 



m 



!( 



. !! 



1} 



m 



{ 

i 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^^ 

After taking a few turns up and down the 
office, the manager stopped at the secre- 
tary's desk and added : " We must win this 
strike. The directors meet to-day and those 
English share-holders are getting nervous. 
They can't understand that this fight is 
necessary — that we are fighting for peace 
hereafter ; weeding out a pestilence that 
threatens, not only the future of railway 
corporations, but the sacred rights of Amer- 
ican citizens — the right to engage in 
whatever business or calling one cares to 
follow, and to employ whom he will at 
whatever wages the employer and em- 
ployed may agree upon. Let these strikers 
win and we shall have a strike as often as 
the moon changes. When I endeavor to 
reach an agreement with them, they take 
it that the company is weakening, and the 
leaders will hsten to nothing. I shudder to 
think what is in store for them and what 
they must suffer before they can under- 
stand." 

[14] 



n So^ 

)wn the 
3 secre- 
w'ln this 
id tliose 
lervous. 
fight is 
>r peace 
ce that 
railway 
f Amer- 
^age in 
cares to 
will at 
nd em- 
strikers 
often as 
avor to 
ey take 
and the 
idder to 
id what 
under- 




^ CHAPTER II ^ 



With that the general manager passed into 
the private office and the chief clerk, who 
had been at his post all night, turned to a 
steaming breakfast which the porter had 
just brought from a cafe across the street. 
The postman came in, grave-faced and si- 
lent, and left a big bundle of letters on tlie 
secretary's desk. Most of the mail was oflfi- 
cial, but now and then there came letters 
from personal friends who held similar posi- 
tions on other roads, assuring the general 
manager of their sympathy, and that they 
would aid his company whenever they 
could do so secretly and without exciting 
their own employees. 

Many letters came from stockholders pro- 
testing vigorously against a continuation of 
the strike. Some anonymous letters warned 
the company that great calamity awaited 
the management, unless the demands of the 
employees were acceded to and the strike 
ended. A glance into the newspapers that 
came in, showed that three-fourths of the 

[ 15 ] 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 



.1 =f' 



!1 



l> 'i 



I !li 



1 .! 



I H 



press of the country praised the iiianage- 
meiit and referred to tlie strikers as dynam- 
iters and anarchists. The other fourth re- 
joiced at each drop in the stocks and called 
every mun a martyr who was arrested at 
the instigation of the railroad company. The 
reports sent out daily by the company and 
those collected at the head(piarters of the 
strikers agreed exactly as to date, but dis- 
agreed in all that followed. 
The secretary, somewhat refreshed by a 
good breakfast, waded through the mail, 
making marks and notations occasionally 
with a blue pencil on the turned down cor- 
ners of letters. • 

Some of the communications were referred 
to the general traffic manager, some to 
the general passenger agent, others to the 
superintendent of motive power and ma- 
chinery. They were all sorted carefully and 
deposited in wicker baskets, bearing the 
initials of the different departments. Many 
were dropped into the basket marked *'G. 

[ 16] 



h^ 



^ CHAPTEU 11 h^ 



,nage- 
niam- 
i\\ re- 
called 
:ed at 
f. The 
ly and 
3f the 
it dis- 

by a 
; mail, 
ionally 
vii cor- 

eferred 
Tie to 
to the 
d ma- 
ly and 
ig the 
Many 
led " G. 



M." but most of the matter was disposed 
of by the secretary himself, for the chief 
clerk of a great railway system, having the 
sigr.ature of the Cieneral Manager, is one of 
the husicst, and usually one of the brightest 
men in the company's employ. 
The general manager in his private office 
pored over the morning papers, puffing vig- 
orously now and then as he perused a para- 
grapli that praised the strikers, but, when the 
literature was to his liking, smoked slowly 
and contentedly, like a man without a care. 
Sucli were the scenes and conditions in and 
about the general offices of the Chicago 
Burhngton & Quincy Railroad Company 
when a hght foot-step was heard in the hall 
and a gentle voice came singing ; 

^^ Always together in sunshine and rain. 
Facing the weather — '*'' 

" Good morning. Patsy," said the chief clerk, 
looking up as Patsy paused at the gate, re- 
moved his hat and bowed two or three short 

[ 17] 



msm 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 



., ■;-«; 



\i m 



quick bows with his head without bowing 
his body. 

** I beg your pardon," said Patsy, " I thought 
you were alone." 
" Well, I am alone." 

"No you're not — I'm here. Always to- 
gether — " 

" Come ! Come ! Patsy don't get funny this 
morning." 

" Get funny I how can I get funny when 
I 'm already funny ? I was born funny — 
they had fun with me at the christening, 
and I expect they '11 have the divil's own 
time with me at the wake. Always — " 
"Sh! Sh ! — Be quiet," said the secretary, 
nodding his head and his thumb in the di- 
rection of the door of the private office. 
"Is the governor in ? " asked Patsy. 
"Yes." 

" Now that 's luckv for me, for I wanted to 
ask a favor and I want it to-day, and if the 
governor was not in you would say, * I '11 
have to see the governor ;' then when I came 

[18] 



il ill 



to- 




^ CHAPTER II S^ 



back you would say ' The governor has left 
the office, and I forgot it,' but now that the 
governor is here you can do it yourself. I 
want to go to Council Bluffs." 
"All right, Patsy, you can go if you can 
persuade those friends of yours to allow us 
to run a train." 
" On the Q ? " 

'* That 's the only line we control." 
"Not on your salary." 

"Then you can't go," said the clerk, as he 
resumed the work before him. 
" What s the matter with the North West- 
ern ? " asked Patsy in an earnest, pleading 
ton*^;. 

"You ought to know that we can't give 
passes over a competing line." 
" 1 do know it, but you can give me a letter 
over there. Just say : * Please give Patsy 
Daly transportation, Chicago to Council 
Bluffs and return ; ' that 11 do the business. 
You might add a paragraph about me being 
an old and trusted employe and — " 

[ 19] 



WSBSBSff9S9BBBKBSBi 



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i it ■>• ! • 



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ii 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h» 

'A bold and mistrusted striker, Patsy, 
would be nearer the card," 
"Now don't bring up unpleasant recollec- 
tions," said Patsy with a frown that didn't 
make him look as cross as some men look 
when they laugh : " It wiU be a neat way 
of showing that the Q is big enough to be 
good to her old employees, even if her stock 
is a little down. What do you say — do I get 
the pass — does mother see her railroad boy 
to-night ? " 

The door that was marked " Private " opened 
slowly and the general manager came in. 
The chief clerk shuffled the letters while 
Patsy made a desperate effort to look seri- 
ous and respectful.' 

"What brings you here, Patsy?" asked the 
head of the road, for he was by no means 
displeased at seeing one of the old em- 
ployees in the office who was not a mem- 
ber of a grievance committee. 
" I want to get a pass, if you please sir, to 
run down to the Bluffs and see the folks." 

[20] 



^ CHAPTER II h€^ 



"4 

'i 






" Patsy wants a request for a pass over the 
North Western," said the clerk, taking cour- 
age now that the subject was opened. 
" Ah ! is that all ? now suppose I ask you to 
take a passenger train out to-night, will you 
do it ? " asked the general manager, turning 
to Patsy. 

"What's the matter with the regular con- 
ductor ? " 

"Joined the strikers," was the reply. 
" But the papers say the strike is over." 
" It is ! but a lot of you fellows don't seem 
to know it." 

"I'm glad of it, and now I must hurry 
back, so as to be ready to take my run out. 
Do I get the pass ? " 

" And you expect, when the strike is off, to 
go back to your old place ? " 
" Sure," said Patsy, " I don't intend to quit you 
as long as you have a brake for me to turn." 
"There's a lot of brakes that nobody is 
turning right now ; come, you young rascal, 
will you go to work ? " 

[ 21 ] 




vS. 



■BUM 



..pi 



!t 



ll 



1 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 

" Now," said the young rascal, " you know 
what it says at the bottom of the time-card : 
* In case of doubt take the safe side.' I 'm 
waiting to see which side is safe." 
With that the manager went back to his 
desk and closed the door behind him, and 
the secretary went on with his work. 
Patsy stood and looked out at the window 
for a while, and then said half to himself, 
but so the clerk could hear him : " Poor 
little mother, how she will miss me to- 
night." 

The secretary said nothing, but leaving his 
desk entered the office of his chief, and 
when they had talked over the business of 
the hour and read the story prepared by the 
passenger department for the press that day, 
he asked what should be done for Patsy. 
" Oh ! give him the letter, I suppose, but 
he 's the ( ily employee on the road I would 
do so much for." 

" And he 's the only one with nerve enough 
to ask it," said the secretary. 

[ 22 ] 




^ CHAPTER II ^ 



"Yes, he is a bit nervy, John ; but it isn't 
an offensive sort of nerve ; and then he s so 
happy. Why, he really rests me when he 
comes in. He 's smart, too, too smart to be 
a striker and he may be of some use to us 

yet." 

In a little while Patsy went singing himself 
out just as he had sung himself in. The 
general manager sat watching the happy 
youth from the outer door of his room until 
the song and the sound of footsteps died 
away in the wide hall. Turning to his desk 
he sighed and said : " Ah, weU I the English 
poet was right when he wrote 



ce: 



* The world that knows itself too sad 
Is proud to keep some faces glad ! ' "" 



[ 23 ] 



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V..' 



ii 



!ii : 



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i V 


\ 



CHAPTER THIRD 



Jl ATSY, the postman and the newsgath- 
erers, who left the headquarters of the 
company and wandered over to the Grand 
Pacific where the strikers held forth, must 
have been struck forcibly by the vast differ- 
ence in the appearance of the two places 
upon this particular morning. At the first 
place all was neatness and order in spite of 
the deplorable condition of affairs outside ; 
and a single man handled the almost end- 
less flood of letters and telegrams that fell 
like autumn leaves upon his desk. 
In fact, the office boy and the colored por- 
ter were the only people about the com- 
pany's headquarters who showed any real 
anxiety. 

At the headquarters of the strikers all was 
confusion and disorder. The outer offices 
and ante-rooms were filled with a vast 
crowd of men who idled about, smoked, 
swapped stories and swore ; and some of 
them, I 'm sorry to say, chewed tobacco 

[24] 



^ CHAPTER III 5«^ 



.vsgath- 
of the 
Grand 
h, must 
t difFer- 
) places 
:he first 
spite of 
outside ; 
3st end- 
that fell 



and flooded the floor with inexcusable filth. 
Even Mr. Hogan's private office was not 
private. Leading strikers and men promi- 
nent in the Brotherhood loafed there as the 
others loafed outside. Not more than half 
the men about the building had ever been 
employed by the Burhngton company. 
There were scores of '* tramp " switchmen 
and travelling trainmen, made reckless by 
idleness, as men are sometimes made des- 
perate by hunger, with an alarmingly large 
representation of real criminals, who fol- 
low strikes as " grafters " follow a circus. If 
a striker lost his temper and talked as he 
ought not to talk, this latter specimen was 
always ready to encourage him ; for what- 
ever promised trouble for others promised 
profitable pastime for the criminal. If the 
real workers could keep clear of this class, 
as well as the idle, loafing element in their 
own profession, ninety per cent, of the al- 
leged labor outrages would never be com- 
mitted. Very likely there were a number of 

[25] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



' I 



! Ill II 



detectives moving among the strikers, and 
they, too, have been known to counsel vio- 
lence in order to perpetuate a struggle be- 
tween labor and capital that they them- 
selves might not be idle. It is only in the 
best organized agencies that detectives can 
be relied upon to take no undue advantage 
of those whom they are sent out to detect. 
Over in another part of the same building, 
where the firemen held forth, the scene was 
about the same, save that the men there 
were younger in years and louder in their 
abuse of the railway officials ; and gener- 
ally less discreet. 

" Always together in sunshine and rain^ 
Facing the zveather atop o"* the trains'''' 

sang Patsy as he strolled into the private 
office of Chairman Borphy, who was in 
charge of the firemen's end ^^ the strike. 
Borphy greeted Patsy pleasantly as did the 
others in the office, with one exception. 
Over in a window sat fireman George 

[ 26 ] 



rS^ 



^ CHAPTER III h^ 



s, and 
el vio- 
jle be- 
them- 
in the 
es can 
antage 
2teet. 
lilding, 
ne was 
I there 
n their 
gener- 



private 



was m 


:m 


strike, 
lid the 


1 


eption. 


i 


beorge 


n 



Cowels, a great striker, and in the eyes of 
some of his enthusiastic friends a great man, 
and in his own estimation a great orator, 
llemoving liis cigar in order to give the 
proper effect to the expression he was 
about to assume, Cowels gave Patsy a hard 
searching look as he asked : 
"Does that song of yours mean yourself 
and the general manager?" 
*'An' if it does," said Patsy, stepping close 
in front of his questioner: "What's it to 
you ?" 

"Just this," said Cowels: "You have been 
watched. You went to the general office 
this morning the moment it was open, and 
took a message for Mr. Stonaker to the 
general manager of the C. & N. W. Does 
that fit your case ? Perhaps you will favor us 
with the result of your mission 1 Come, will 
the North Western help your friend out ?" 
At the conclusion of this eloquent burst of 
indignation Cowels smiled triumphantly, 

silence, the big fel- 



Patsy paled 



[ 27 ] 



wmM-r mim 



i 1 1 



m I 



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ill , 



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f 



,! 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

low thought he had his man scared ; but 
when Patsy took another step forward, 
forcing his opponent back to the window, 
and asked between his closed teeth, if 
Cowels meant to accuse him of betraying 
the strikers to the company every one in 
the room realized that something was about 
to happen. Perhaps Cowels thought so, too, 
but he was in a hole and could only answer 
Yes. The next instant Patsy drove his fist 
up under the orator's chin, and the back 
of that gentleman's head made a hole in 
the window. The bystanders, knowing the 
temper of both the men, sprang between 
them before any further damage could be 
done. 

If Patsy had the best of the fight he had 
the worst of the argument. He had been 
openly accused of being a "spotter" and 
had made no explanation of his conduct; 
so when it was reported that he had gone 
to Council Bluffs over the North Western, 
the more ignorant and noisy of his associ- 

[28] 



! II! 




LTSO^ 



^ CHAPTER III S^ 



:d; but 
brward, 
vindow, 
seth, if 
jtraying 

one in 
IS about 

so, too, 
' answer 

his fist 
he back 

hole in 
nng the 
between 

ould be 

he had 
ad been 
;er" and 
conduct; 
ad gone 
Western, 
s associ- 



ates were easily persuaded that such a favor 
to a striker coukl only be secured upon the 
request of Mr. Stonaker and that recjuest 
would be given only for services rendered ; 
and Patsy Daly was from that day doomed 
to walk under a cloud. 

The long struggle was beginning to tell on 
the strikers. It was evidenced in the shiny 
suits worn by the men who met daily at 
the hall in town to discuss the strike. It 
was seen again in the worn wraps of many 
a mother and in the torn shoes of school- 
children. The'iC were only the outer signs, 
the real suffering was carefully covered up 
— hidden in the homes where home comfort 
had become a reminiscence. The battle at 
first had been with the strong but now the 
brunt of it was being shifted to the shoul- 
ders of the women, the wives and mothers of 
the strikers. These patient martyrs, whose 
business it had been to look after the home, 
now suffered the humihation of having door 

[29] 



H 



H 



1' 1 1 



I' 1 

" Il 


il 1 1 





^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

jif'ter door closed to them and their eliildren. 
Of ji morning you might see them tramping 
through the snow from shop to sliop trying 
to secure credit for the day. The strike 
would be over in a little while, they argued, 
but the struggling shop-keeper had his own 
to look after. The wholesale houses were re- 
fusing him credit and so he was powerless 
to help the hungry wives of w^orthy work- 
men. The men themselves were beginning 
to lose heart. Many a man who had not 
known what it was to be without a dollar 
now saw those dearest to him in actual 
want and wen: away to look for work on 
other roads. Finally, a monster union meet- 
ing was called for the purpose of getting an 
expression of opinic i as to the advisability 
of making the best possible terms with the 
company and calling the strike off. Here 
the engine-n:tn, trainmen and switchmen 
met, but the radical element was in the 
majority, and the suggestions of the heads 
of the various Brotherhoods that the strike 

[30] 



[IT h» 



^ CUAVTVAl III h^ 



.'hildrcn. 

p trying 
e strike 
argued, 
his own 
were re- 
lowerless 
ly work- 
eginning 
had not 
a dollar 
11 actual 
work on 
3n meet- 
itting an 
disability 
with the 
ff. Here 
pitchmen 
s in the 
le heads 
le strike 



be called oil' were howled down by the un- 
terrificd. It was at this meeting that a tall, 
powerful, but mild mannered man, stood up 
in the face of all the opposing elements and 
advised that tiie strike be ended at once. 
lie did not suggest this from a selfish mo- 
tive, he said. He was a single man and had 
money enough to keep Iiimself in idleness 
for a year, but there were hundreds of fami- 
lies who were in want, and it was for these 
he was pleading. The speaker was inter- 
ru])ted repeatedly, but he kept his place 
and contiiuied to talk imtil the mob be- 
came silent and hstened out of mere curi- 
osity. "You can never hold an army of 
hungry men togeth.cr," said the speaker ; 
"you can't fight gold with a famine. The 
company, we are told, has already lost a 
miUion dollars. What of it ? You forget that 
it has been making millions annually for 
the past ten years. What have we been mak- 
ing ? Lots of money, I 'U admit, but none of 
it has been saved. The company is rich, the 

[31 ] 



~— ««i III lua|pj|{ilJluiwjiMM|W.M|4!i%f 



se 



wrmm 



mSmSSS 



fill 



ill' 






8 



II 



I -I 



4* 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 



brotherhoods are bankrupt. From the re- 
motest corners of the country comes the cry 
of men weary of paying assessments to sup- 
port us in idleness. To-day some sort of set- 
tlement might be made — to-morrow it may 
be too late." 

At this juncture the mob howled the 
speaker down again. Men climbed over 

benches to fret at the " traitor." A man who 
I. 

had been persuaded to leave the company, 
and ^\ho had been taken into the order only 
the day before, tried to strike the engineer 
in the face. In the midst of the excitement, 
George Cowels of the Fireman's Brother- 
hood leaped upon the platform and at sight 
of him and the sound of his powerful voice 
the rioters became quiet. 
*' I think," he began slowly to show how 
easy it was for a truly great leader to keep 
cool in the hottest of the fight, " I think I 
can explain the action of the last speaker." 
Here he paused and looked down into the 
frank face of Dan Moran and continued : 

[82] 



h» 



^ CHAPTER III 5^ 



e re- 
le cry 
) sup- 
if set- 

u may 

1 the 
over 
[1 who 
ipany, 
r only 
gineer 
iment, 
other- 
sight 
voice 

V how 
) keep 
link I 
aker." 
to the 
nued : 



" Mr. Moran, as many of you know, has one 
of the best runs on the road. He has had it 
for a good many years and he loathes to 
leave it. By denying himself the luxury of 
a cigar and never taking a drink he has 
managed to save up some money. He is a 
money-getter — a money-saver and it hurts 
him to be idle. I have been firing for him 
for five years and in all that time he has 
never been the man to say : * Come, George, 
let 's have a drink or a cigar.' Now I propose 
that we chip in and pay Mr. Dan Moran his 
little four dollars a day. Let us fight this 
fight to a finish. Let there be no retreat 
until the proud banner of our Brotherhood 
waves above the blackened ruins of the 
once powerful Burlington route. Down 
with all traitors : on with the fight." 
At the conclusion of thij> speech the audi- 
ence went wild. When order had been par- 
tially restored a vote was taken, when it was 
shown that seven-eighths of the men were 
in favor of continuing the strike. 

[33] 









. ■■ 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

The engineers had really been spoiled by 
success. At the last annual convention they 
had voted to exterminate the classification 
system, and had passed a law making it 
impossible for the head of the organiza- 
tion to make any settlement that included a 
continuation of classification. The scalps of 
the Atchison, the Alton, the Louisville and 
Nashville, and a number of other strong 
companies dangled at the belt of the big 
chief of the Engineers' Brotherhood T ^.>e 
were all won by diplomacy, but the men 
did not know it. They believed that the 
show of strength had awed the railway 
officials of the country and that the railway 
labor organizations were invincible. A little 
easing off by the Brotherhood, and a little 
forbearance on the part of the management 
might, at the start, have averted the great 
struggle ; but when once war had been de 
clared the generals on both sides had no 
choice but to fight it out to a finish. 

[ 34 ] 



rMl 



rS«^ 



CHAPTER FOURTH 



led by 
n they 
ication 

iing it 
ganiza- 
luded a 
2alps of 
ille and 

strong 
the big 
1 T . .e 
:he men 
that the 

railway 
3 railway 

A httle 

d a httle 
lagement 
the great 
been de 
i had no 



xJA'S you spare me a little money, 
George?" asked Mrs. Cowels, adjusting her 
last year's coat. 

" What do you want of money ? " 
"Well — it's Christmas eve, and I thought 
we ought to have something for Bennie. He 
has been asking me all evening what I ex- 
pected from Santa Claus, never hinting, of 
course, that he expected anything." 
" Well, here 's a dollar." 
Mrs. Cowels took the money and went over 
to the little store. 

There were so many things to choose from 
that she found it difficult to make a selec- 
tion. Finally she paid a quarter for a tin 
whistle and two bunches of noise — that was 
for the boy. With the remaining seventy- 
five cents she bought a pair of gloves for 
her husband. 

" Anybody been here to-day ? " asked 
Cowels of his wife when she came back 
from the store. 



[35] 



^^■^BWWW^P— PWIWPI 






m 



« 



li! I ! 



! 



it 



m 



u 



!!i 



is 



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In 

iiii 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

"Yes, Mr. Squeesum, secretary of the Be- 
nevolent Building Association, was here to 
see you about the last two payments which 
are over-d^e, on the house." 
" What did you tell him ?" 
" I told him that we had no money." 
" What did he say ? " 

"He said that was very strange, as the 
Brotherhoods were pouring thousands of 
dollars into Chicago to aid the strikers. 
What becomes of all this money, George ? 
You never seem to get any of it." 
"We pour it out again," said Cowels, "to 
the army of engine-men who are coming 
here from the Reading and everywhere to 
take our places. We hire them — buy them 
off — bribe them, to prevent them from tak- 
ing service with the company, and yet it 
seems there is no end to the supply. For 
every man we secure the company brings a 
score, and we are losing ground. Members 
of the Brotherhood everywhere are growing 
weary of the long struggle. They have good 

[ 36 ] 



^ CHAPTER IV 5^ 



jobs and object to paying from six to twelve 
dollars a month to support the strikers. 
Some have even refused to pay assessments 
and have surrendered their charters. Any- 
body else here ? " 

"Yes, a man named Hawkins. He wanted 
room and board." 
" What did you tell him ? " 
" I told him we had never kept roomers or 
boarders, but he said he liked the place — 
for me to speak to you, and he would call 
again." 

" Huh ! he must Uke the place. Well, I 
guess we can get along some way," said 
Cowels, and then he sat and looked into the 
fire for a while without saying anything. 
When Mrs. Cowels had put the baby down 
she came and sat near her husband and 
they began to discuss the future. They had 
bought their little home a year and a half 
ago for twelve hundred dollars. They had 
lived economically and had been able to re- 
duce the debt to six hundred dollars. But 

• [37] _._^_:^_:,_^:^:.:,^::. 



II I III 



11 



r!i 



it ill 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

when the strike came they were unable to 
keep up the payments and now the associa- 
tion had begun to push them. If they did 
not pay within the next thirty days the real 
estate company with the soft sounding title 
would foreclose the mortgage. When they 
had talked this all over, Mrs. Cowels pro- 
posed that they take the stranger in, but her 
husband objected. " I did n't want to tell 
you, George," said the brave httle woman, 
"but there was another caller. The grocer 
and butcher was here this morning and we 
can get no more meat or groceries until we 
pay. He is a poor man, you know, and he 
can't keep up the families of all the strik- 
ers. I didn't want to worry you with this, 
George, but since you are opposed to me 
helpin^^; by taking a lodger I will tell you 
that something must be done." 
Cowels lighted a fresh cigar. That was the 
third one since supper. They cost all the 
way from two to five cents apiece, but 
Mrs. Cowels knew that he was worried 

[38] 



^ CHAPTER IV 50^ 



about lodge matters and if she thought 
anything about it at all, she probably rea- 
soned that it was a good thing to be able 
to smoke and forget. 

'* I made the speech of my life to-day, " said 
the striker, brushing the ashes lightly from 
his cigar. "The hall was packed and the 
fellows stood up on their chairs and yelled. 
One fellow shouted, * Three cheers for the 
next Grand Master,' and the gang threw up 
their hats and hollered till I thought they 'd 
gone wild. Nora, if there was a convention 
to-morrow I 'd win, hands down." 
Mrs. Cowels smiled faintly, for to her way 
of thinking there were other things as im- 
portant as her husband's election to the 
position of Grand Master of the Brother- 
hood of Locomotive Firemen, and she 
changed the subject. Presently the door- 
bell sounded, so loud and piercing that the 
sound of it waked the baby. The man who 
had pulled the bell knew at once that he 
had made no mistake. He had noticed when 







I 



m 



; li 



'ii 



i!!: 



lil! 









i 



r 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 

he called that morning that the bell upon 
the door had once done service in the cab 
of a locomotive, and had made a note of 
the fact. While. Mrs. Cowels hushed the 
baby her husband answered the bell and 
when Mr. Hawkins gave his name and 
made his wants known, Cowels told him 
shortly that they did not keep lodgers. He 
knew that, he said, and that was one of the 
reasons why he was so anxious to come, but 
Cowels, who liked to show his authority at 
all times, shut the door, and the stranger 
was not taken in. 

That night when the orator was dreaming 
that he had been chosen Grand Master of 
the Brotherhood, his wife stole out of the 
room and put the things in Bennie's sock, 
and then, just to please Bennie, she put a 
rubber rattle in the baby's little stocking. 
Her husband, being a great thinker, would 
not consent to having his hosiery hung up, 
so she would wait till breakfast time and 
hide the gloves under his plate. Then she 

[ 40 ] 



.:-:v.^,^ 



1 upon 
;he cab 
lote of 
ed the 
2II and 
le and 
Id him 
irs. He 
I of the 
ne, but 
jrity at 
tranger 




^ CHAPTER IV 5o^ 



went over to tuck the cover in around 
Bennie. He was smihng— dreaming, doubt- 
less, of red sleds and firecrackers— and his 
mother smiled, too, and kissed him and 
went back to bed. 



eammg 
ister of 
of the 
's sock, 
i put a 
;ocking. 
, would 
mg up, 
iTie and 
len she 



[ 41 ] 



! I 



f ft^ .l.liOI-^y.-.., 



'>\> I 



: I 



CHAPTER FIFTH 

XT was a. rough, raw, Chicago day. The 
snow came in spurts, cold and cutting from 
the north and the scantily dressed strikers 
were obliged to dance a))out and beat their 
hands to keep warm. Special mounted 
police were riding up and down the streets 
that paralleled the Burlington tracks, and 
ugly looking armed deputies were every- 
where in evidence. The forced quiet that 
pervaded the opposing armies served only 
to increase the anxiety of the observing. 
Every man who had any direct interest in 
the contest seemed to have a chip on his 
shoulder. 

At ten o'clock the strike was to be ex- 
tended to all connecting lines^ the switching 
yards and stock yards. When the hour ar- 
rived the switchmen threw up their caps 
and quit. Now the different companies 
made an effort to replace the strikers and 
trouble commenced. The deputies, who had 
been aching to get a whack at the strikers 

[ 42 ] 






Mi 



^ CILVPIER V Sfr 



The 
from 
'ikers 

their 
anted 
treets 
;, and 
jvery- 
u that 
I only 
;rving. 
-est in 
on his 

e ex- 
Itching 
ur ar- 
|r caps 
ipanies 
Irs and 
lO had 
itrikers 



for countless cursings which they had re- 
ceived, now used their guns unmercifully 
upon the unprotected heads of the men, 
and the pohce, who disHked and refused to 
associate with the deputies, used their clubs 
upon all who resisted them. By eleven 
o'clock the whole city was in a state of riot 
and men bruised and bleeding were loaded 
into wagons and hurried away until the 
jails were filled with criminals, bums, depu- 
ties and strikers. The ])olice courts were 
constantly grinding out justice, or decisions 
intended to take the place of justice. 
Mothers were often seen begging the 
magistrates to release their boys and wives 
praying for the pardon of their husbands. 
These prayers were often unanswered and 
the poor women were forced to return to a 
lonely home, to an empty cupboard and a 
cold hearth. 

In the midst of the rioting on this wild day 
came Patsy Daly strolling up the track 
singing : 

[ 43 ] 






111 

ill .14 



•m 



'-ii 



:!l 



I 



!!f 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

" Always together in .suH.shinc and rain 
Facinff the weather atop ai' tK train. 
Watchinff the meadows move nruler the stars 
Always together atop o'' th'' cars."^ 

** Hello ! there I " came from a box car. 
" Hello to you," said Patsy as he turned out 
to see what the fellow was in for. " Now, what 
the divil you doin' caged up in this car ? " 
" I 'm hidin' from the strikers," said the 
man, peeping cautiously out. 
** Faith, and I m one of them myself," says 
Patsy, " and I suppose you 're after takin' 
my place, ye spalpeen ; I have a ri^' to 
swat your face for you, so I have." 
" You could n't do it if I was opposed," said 
the stranger opening the door. 
" Oh I could n't I ? then let yourself drop to 
the ground till I take a little of the conceit 
out of you." 

" No, I won't fight you," said the man, " I 
like your face and I want you to help me 
out." 

" And I like your nerve ; now, what 's your 

[ 44 ] 



^ CHAPTER V S^ 



pleasure ? Have you been working in this 
strike ? " 

" I started to work this morning only to get 
something to eat on." 
" Are you a railroad man ? " 
** I 'm a switchman. I was foreman in the 
yards at Buffalo, had a scrap with the yard- 
master who had boasted that he would not 
have a switchman he could n't curse, an' got 
fired." 

" Did you lick him ? " 
" Yes." 

*' Good and plenty ? " 
" Yes." 

" Go on with your story." 
" Well," said the man, seating himself in the 
door of the car, " I started out to get work 
— had my card from the Union and felt 
sure of success. I had only been married a 
year, but of course I had to leave my wife 
in Buffalo until I got located. When I ap- 
plied for work I was asked for references 
and I had none. I told them where I had 

[ 45 ] 



14 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



11 



worked ; they asked me to call later, and I 
called, only to learn that they didn't need 
any more men. This performance was re- 
peatrjd in every town I struck^ until I began 
to believe that I had been blacklisted. In 
time my money gave out. I wrote to my 
wife and she sent me money. When that 
was gone I sent for more, not stopping to 
think that she had to eat, too, and that I 
had given her but ten dollars when I left 
home ; but she sen+ me money. 
Then there came a time when she could not 
send me anything ; I could not keep up my 
dues in the Union, so was expelled. After 
that I found it hard to get passes. Lots of 
times I had to steal them, and finally — for 
the first time in my life — I stole something 
to eat. Say, pardner, did you ever get so 
hungry that the hunger cramped you like 
cholera morbus ? " 
« No." 

" Then I reckon you 've never stole, or 
what 's worse, scabbed ? " 

[ 46 ] 



iii'li 



nd I 
need 
s re- 
legan 
i. In 
^ my 
that 
iig to 
liat I 
I left 

id not 
p my 
After 
)ts of 
I — for 
^tiling 
[et so 
like 



^ CHArTER V 5^ 




e, or 



" No." 

" Well — I Ve done both, though this is the 
first time I 've scabbed. As I was sayin' I 
got down so low that I had to steal, and 
then I thought of my wife, of how terrible 
it would be if she should have to steal, or 
maybe worse, and the thought of it drove 
me almost crazy. She was a pretty girl when 
I married her, an orphan only eighteen and 
I was twenty-eight. I determined to go 
home at once, but before I could get out 
of town I was arrested as a vag and sent 
up for sixty days. 1 thought at that time 
that my punishment was great, — that the 
mental and physical suffering that I en- 
dured in the workhouse was all that I couhl 
stand, — but I 've seen it beaten since. At 
last they told me that I could go, but that 
I would be expected to shake the city of 
Chicago before the sun rose on the follow- 
ing day, and I did. I hung myself up on the 
trucks of a Pullman on the Lake Shore I^im- 
ited and landed in Buffalo just before dawn. 

[47] 



1 1 



'■*''^''-'"****»M*^'if**MlwlB*.« 



.^ 




^ SNO^ \^ ON THE HEADLIGHT 5l^ 

As I hurried along the old familiar streets I 
noticed a crowd of people standing by a nar- 
row canal and stopped to see what the ex- 
citement was. I saw them fish the limp and 
lifeless form of a woman out of the muddy 
water and when the moonlight fell upon her 
face it startled me, for it was so like her 
face. A moment later I got near enough to 
see that the victim was a blonde, and my 
wife was brunette. Presently I came to the 
house where we had lived, but it was closed 
and dark. I aroused a number of the neigh- 
bors, but none of them knew where the 
little woman had gone. 
" ' Shure,' said an old woman who was ped- 
dling milk, * I don't know phere she 's at at 
all, at all. That big good-fur-nothin' man o* 
hern has gone along and deserted of her an' 
broke the darlint's heart, so 'e 'as an' the end 
uv it all will be that she '11 be afther drownin' 
'erself in the canal bey ant wan uv these foine 
nights.' 
"All through the morning I searched the 

[ 48 ] 



h^ 



^ CHAPTER V SO^ 



ets I 

nar- 
e ex- 
) and 
uddy 
n her 
e her 
[gh to 
d my 
DO the 
closed 
neigh- 

e the 

ped- 
at at 
lan o' 
ler an' 
leend 
)\vnin' 
foine 

id the 



place for her, but not a trace could I find. 
It seemed that she had dropped out of the 
world, utterly, and that no one had missed 
her. Finally I was so hungry that I begged 
a bite to eat and went down by the canal 
and fell asleep. Here a strange thing hap- 
pened. I had a dreadful dream. I dreamed 
that I saw my wife being dragged from the 
dark waters of the canal. She had the same 
sad, sweet face, but not the same hair. I 
awoke in a cold sweat. I was now seized 
with an irresistible longing to look once 
more upon the face of the dead woman 
whom I had seen them fish from the foul 
waters that morning, and I set out for the 
morgue. I entered unnoticed and there lay 
the dead woman with her white hands 
folded upon her dead breast. She had the 
same sad, sweet face, but not the same hair, 
but it was she — it was my wife." 
The vag let his head fall so that his eyes 
rested upon the ground. Patsy fished some- 
thing from his vest and holding it out to 

[ 49 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 






* 



the man, said : " Here 's a one-dollar bill 
and a three-dollar meal ticket — which will 
you have ? " 
" Gi' me the pie-card." 

'* Which shows you 're not a regular bum," 
said Patsy. 

" No," said the man, eyeing the meal ticket 
with its twenty-one unpunched holes. " I 
never cared for Uquor, only once in a while 
when a bum makes a hft I take a nip just 
to stop the awful gnawing, cramping pain of 
hunger, but it only makes you feel worse 
afterwards. But it's interesting," said the 
tramp, thoughtfully. *' If it were not for 
the hunger and cold this new life that I 
have dropped into wouldn't be half bad. 
You get a closer* glimpse of the miseries of 
mankind and a better notion of the causes 
that bring it all about. It educates you. Now 
take this fight for instance. You fellows feel 
sure of success, but I know better. Only 
two men of all the vast armv of strikers 
have deserted so far, but wait. Wait till the 

[50] 



III ,|| 
iiiiil 



^ CHAPTER V 5^ 



pain of hunger hits you and doubles you up 
like a jack-knife, and it 's sure to come. Be- 
hind the management there are merciless 
millions of money : behind the strikers the 
gaunt wolf of hunger stalks in the snow. 
Can you beat a game like that ? Never. And 
after all what right have you and your peo- 
ple to expect mercy at the hands of organ- 
ized capital ? Does the Union show mercy 
to men like me ? To escape the blight of the 
black-list I changed my name. Three times 
I found work, but in each instance the com- 
pany were forced to discharge me or have a 
strike. I was not a Union man and so had 
to steal a riJe out of town. Once I asked a 
farmer for work and he set me to digging 
post holes and every time a man came by I 
hid myself in the grass. *What you hidin' 
fur ? ' the farmer asked. Then I told him 
that I didn't belong to the Union. 
" * What Union ? ' says he. 
" * The post-hole Union ' says I — *in fact, I 
don't belong to any Union.' 

L51 ] . ^ ,, 







^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

" * They ain't no post-hole Union,' says the 
farmer indignantly, * an' you know it. What 
you 're givin' me is hog- wash — you 've been 
stealin'. Here 's a quarter fur what you 've 
done — now git.' 

"I tried to reason with him, but he only 
shook his thick head and began whistling 
for his dog, and I got. Yes, pardner, it 
seems to me that the tyranny of organized 
capital and the tyranny of organized labor 
are close competitors, and in their wake 
come the twin curses — the black-list and 
the toycot. Hand in hand they go, like red 
liquor and crime. But you can't right these 
wrongs the way you 're headed now," said 
the philosopher. " Everything is against you. 
Wealth works wonders. The press, the tele- 
phone through which the public talks bad 
to itself, is hoarse with the repetition of the 
story of your wrong-doings. Until the Gov- 
ernment puts a limit to the abuses of trusts 
and monopolies, and organized labor has 
learned that there are other interests which 

[52] 



•!tl! 



if 



the 
Ihsit 
been 
u've 

only 
tling 
ir, it 
nized 
labor 
wake 
: and 
le red 
hese 
said 
you. 
tele- 
bacl 
f the 
Gov- 
rusts 
has 
hich 



^ CHAPTER V 5^ 



have rights under the Constitution, there 
will be no peace on earth, no good will to- 
ward man. When the trusts are controlled, 
and labor submits its grievances to an im- 
partial, unbiased board of arbitration, then 
there will be peace and plenty. The wages 
that you are now losing and the money 
squandered by vulgar and ignorant leaders, 
will then be used in building up and beauti- 
fying homes. The time thrown away in use- 
less agitation and in idleness will be spent 
for the intellectual advancement of working 
men, and the millions of money lost in 
wrecked railroads will find its way to the 
pockets of honest investors." 
While this lecture, which interested Patsy, 
was being delivered the two men had be- 
come oblivious of their surroundings, but 
now the wild cry of a mob in a neighbor- 
ing street, the rattle of sticks and stones 
and the occasional bark of a six-shooter 
brought them back to the business before 
them. 

[53] ■ :" 



n 







^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Wave after wave the rioters rolled against 
the little band of officers, but like billows 
that break upon a stony shore they were 
forced to roll back again. Like the naked 
minions of Montezuma, who hurled them- 
selves against the armored army of the 
Spaniards, the strikers and their abetters 
were invariably beaten back v/ith bruised 
heads and broken bones. If a luckless striker 
fell he was trampled upon by the horses of 
the mounted police or kicked into uncon- 
sciousness by the desperate deputies. 
'* Can you get me out of this so I can have 
a go at this pie-card ? " asked the man. 
"Yas," said Patsy, leaping into the car. 
"Skin off your coat." 

When the two men had exchanged coats 
and caps the vag strolled leisurely down the 
track and in a little while Patsy followed. 
He had not gone three cars before the mob 
saw him and with the cry of " The scab ! the 
scab I " sent a shower of sticks and stones 
after the flying brakeman. A rock struck 

[ 54 ] 



igainst 
)illows 
were 
naked 
them- 
•f the 
setters 
ruised 
itriker 
ses of 
ncon- 



^ CHAPTER V ^ 

I'atsy on the head and he fell f .u 

ground. The cap, which he L *^" 

over his eye« felnff lu '^''''" ^^^^ 

by one o7 he H^^^^^^^^^ T "^^^"^^^' 
be kicked in. 'iW J^^'I^ ^'^ "^^ ^-"^^ 

mob -Jt'cfv, ^' . «aid the leader of the 
inoD, It s the snimri' brakem.,.. ^ru' i. 



I i 



have 

: car. 

coats 
n the 
)wed. 
mob 
! the 
tones 
:ruck 



r 55 ] 



CHAPTER SIXTH 





A HREE kinds of meetings were held by the 
strikers. Public meetings, open to every- 
body, union meetings, open to any member 
of the several organizations engaged in the 
strike, and secret sessions held by the vari- 
ous Brotherhoods, to which only members of 
that particular order were admitted. 
Many things were said and done at these 
secret sessions that were never printed, or 
even mentioned outside the lodge-room, 
save when a detective happened to be a 
member, or when a member happened to be 
a detective. 

At one of these meetings, held by the strik- 
ing firemen, the head of that organization 
startled the audience with the declaration 
that the strike was going to end disas- 
trously for the strikers. In fact, he said, the 
strike was already lost. They were beaten. 
The only point to be determined was as to 
the extent of the thrashing. This red rag, 
flung in the faces of the "war faction," 

[56] 



^ CHAPTER VI ^ 



called forth hisses and hoots from the no- 
surrender element. A number of men were 
on their feet instantly, but none with the 
eloquence, or even the lung power to shut 
the chief off. Many of the outraged mem- 
bers glanced over at Cowels, who always sat 
near the little platform at the end of the 
hall in order that he might not keep his 
admirers waiting when they called for a 
speech. The greatest confusion prevailed 
during the address of the head of the house. 
Cowels, the recognized leader of the war 
party, sat silently in his place, though fre- 
quently called upon to defend the fighters. 
As their chief went on telling them of the 
inevitable ruin that awaited the strikers, the 
more noisy began to accuse him of selling 
them out. One man wanted to know what 
he got for the job, but the master, feeling 
secure in that he was doing his duty, gave 
no heed to what his traducers were saying. 
Amid all the turmoil Cowels sat so quietly 
that some of the more suspicious began to 

[57] 



,- 



' 



i 



r 



I , 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADIJGHT ^ 



M.A 



guess, audibly, that he was *• in with the 
play." But there was no play, and if there 
had been Cowels would not have been in 
with it. Cowels was thinking. Suddenly he 
leaped upon his chair and yelled : " Throw 
'im out !" He did not use the finger of scorn 
upon the master, or even look in his direc- 
tion. He merely glared at the audience and 
commanded it to " Throw 'im out I" 
" We are fighting a losing fight," repeated 
the chief, "and you who fight hardest here 
will be first to fall," and he looked at Cowels 
as he spoke. " It could not be pleasant to 
me, even with your respectful attention, to 
break this news to you. I do it because 
it is my duty. But now, having said what 
I had to say, let i le assure you that if a 
majority of you elect to continue the fight, 
I will lead you, and I promise that every 
man of you shall have his fill." 
This last declaration was rather a cooler for 
Cowels. It took a vast amount of wind out 
of his sails, but he was on his feet and so 

[58] 



I 



9 



i 






^ CHAPTER VI S^ 



Iwid to make a speech. He was not very 
abusive, but managed to make it plain that 
there were others ready and able to lead if 
their leader failed to do his duty. When 
he had succeeded in getting his train of 
thought out over the switches his hearers, 
especially the no-surrenderers, began to en- 
thuse. His speech was made picturesque by 
the introduction of short rhymes, misquota- 
tions from dead poets, and tales that had 
never been told in type. " If," he exclaimed 
dramatically, " to use a Shakesperian simile, 
the galled wench be jaded, let him surrender 
his sword to some one worthy of the steel." 
The orator worked the Shakesperian pedal 
so hard that some of his hearers expressed a 
desire to know more about the distinguished 
poet. Finally, when he became too deep for 
them, a man with a strong clear voice 
shouted a single word — the name of a little 
animal whose departure from a sinking ship 
makes sailors seek the shore — and Cowels 
closed like a snuff-box. 

[ 39] 



B^SaSBBB 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



Now the casual observer would say of the 
great orator : he has money ; his family is 
not in want. But the statement would have 
been incorrect. 

The Cowelses, like hundreds of other fami- 
lies, were without money, without credit, 
and would shortly be without food. The last 
money they had received from the Brother- 
hood had gone to pay the interest on the 
money due the Benevolent Building Asso- 
ciation, for fuel, and to pay the milkman 
who was bringing milk for the baby. It 
would be forty or fifty days before another 
assessment could be made and the money 
collected. The outlook was gloomy. Mr. 
Hawkins had called again and offered ten 
dollars a month for the little spare room on 
the second floor, but Cowels would not con- 
sent. 

But at the very moment when he was 
making this speech his wife was returning 
empty-handed from the bakery. Bennie had 

; the window for. 



ig, waitmg g 
[60] 



^ CHAPTER VI 5^ 



lad 
Ifor 



\ 



her, and when she saw him stiiring at her, 
saw the tears come into his innocent eyes, 
she took him in her arms and wept as she 
had not wept before. They had breakfasted 
on bread and v^ater. It was now past noon 
and they were all hungry. She gave Bennie 
some of the baby's milk, and then sat down 
to think. The door-bell rung. " 1 was just 
passing by," said Mr. Hawkins, "and thought 
I 'd stop and see if there was any show to 
get that room. I work for the plumber in 
the next block, so you see it would be handy 
for me." 

" Would you pay in advance ? " asked Mrs. 
Cowels. 

" I should n't mind," said the plumber, " if 
it would be of any advantage to you." 
" Then you can have the room." 
" Very well," said the man, apparently de- 
lighted with his bargain, and he gave her a 
crisp ten-dollar note. He also gave Bennie a 
big, red apple, and looked surprised when the 
boy began to bite great chunks out of it. 

[61 ] 



" ^*fBKtKMKtt0KKrsfrrzs&ii%^ 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S€^ 



^%i 



,n 



That evening when Cowels came home he 
found the house filled with the fumes of 
boiled beef, and it put him in a good 
humor at once. He was hungry, having had 
nothing all day but a glass of beer and a 
free lunch. 

"They's a man up-stairs," said Bennie, 
shoving his empty plate up for another load 
of boiled beef. Mrs. Cowels smiled a faint 
smile, and her husband asked : 
" Who is this fellow ? " 
" He 's a plumber," was the reply, " and he 
seems like a very nice man." 
" Did he pay a month in advance ? " 
" Yes." 

" Well, I don't like the idea of having stran- 
gers in the house," said Cowels, " and I wish 
you had not taken him in." 
" I dislike it too, George," said Mrs. Cowels, 
"but the baker had refused me a loaf of 
bread, the children were hungry and you 
might as well knov/ now that I can never 
see my babies suffer for want of food, and 

[62] 



I 



^ CHAPTER VI S^ 



I 



you need not be surprised at anything 
may do to supply their wants." 
Cowels had never seen his wife display so 
much spirit and it surprised him. " It 's all 
very well," she went on, "to prate about 
honor and loyalty to the Brotherhood, but 
an obligation that entails the suffering of 
innocent women and children is not an hon- 
orable obligation and ought not to exist. A 
man's first duty is to his family. My advice 
to you would be to miss a few meetings and 
go and try to find something to do. Think 
how we have denied ourselves in order to 
have a place of our own, and now it 's all to 
be taken from us, and all because of this 
senseless and profitless strike." 
" By Oeorge, she 's a cracker-jack ! " said 
Hawkins, who had been listening down the 
stove-pipe. 

Cowe's made no reply to his wife, but he 
was tli nking. In fact, he had been thinking 
all the way home. He had been interrupted 
twice that day while addressing the meet- 

[63] 




rifw»H»l.,H. .« „ .. . 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



ing. One fellow had asked who the devil 
Shakespeare was, and if he had ever done 
anything for the Union. Another man had 
said " rats," and the orator was sore. 
Now, when he had thought it all over, he 
surprised his wife as much as she had sur- 
prised him. " They 're all a lot of unhterate 
ingrates," said Cowels, "and for two cents 
I'd shake the whole show and go to work. 
If they turn me down at the convention, 
and this strike is not settled, I'll take an 
engine." 

Mr. Hawkins gave a low whistle. 
" No, you must never do that, George, after 
all you 've said against such things ; it would 
not do." 

" Then they must not drive me to it," said 
Cowels. " I 've tried to show them the way 
to success, even to lead them, and they have 
the nerve to guy me. I '11 fool 'em yet if 
they trifle with me." 

" That 's what I thought all along," mused 
Hawkins. " II was not the Brotherhood 

[64 ] 




^ CHAPTER VI ^ 



[ 65 ] 



f/. 



HSSI 




ll 



CHAPTER SEVENTH 

X HE great strike, like a receding sea, re- 
vealed heaps of queer wreckage. Men who 
had once been respected by their fellows, 
but who had drifted down the river of vice 
now came to claim the attention of the 
strikers or the company. Most conspicuous 
among them was drunken Bill Greene. 
Three months ago he would have been 
kicked out of a company section house or 
passed by a Brotherhood man without a 
nod. Then he was "Old Bill;" now they 
called him Billy. 

In his palmy days he had wooed, and won 
the heart of Maggie Crogan, a pretty wait- 
ress in the railway eating-house at Zero 
Junction. Maggie was barely eighteen then, 
a strawberry blonde with a sunny smile and 
a perpetual blush. In less than a year he 
had broken her heart, wrecked her life and 
sent her adrift in the night. His only excuse 
was that he was madly in love with Nora 
Kelly, but Nora, having heard the story of 

[66 ] 



♦ 



^ CHAPTER VII S^ 



in, 



of 



Maggie's miserable life, turned her back on 
Greene and married George Cowels, then a 
young apprentice in the shops. Inasmuch as 
it was about the only commendable thing 
he ever did, it should be put to Greene's 
credit that he did really love Nora Kelly; 
but, being a coward with an inherited thirst, 
he took to drink the day she turned him 
down; and now, after a few wasted years 
he and Maggie — old red-headed Mag they 
called her — had drifted together, pooled 
their sorrows and often tried to drown them 
in the same can of beer. She worked, when 
she worked at all, at cleaning coaches. He 
borrowed her salary and bought drink with 
it. Once he proposed marriage, and ended 
by beating her because she laughed at him. 
Before the strike he had been forced to keep 
sober four days out of a week. Now he was 
comfortably tanked at all times. He had 
been a machinist and round-house fore- 
man, and the company saw in him a fair 
'* emergency " engineer, and was constantly 

[67] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 





watching for an opportunity to try him on 
one of the fast express trains. 
At last he was called to take out a passen- 
ger run. The round-house foreman had gone 
personally to fetch "Billy" from the bar- 
room near the Grand Pacific where he was 
waiting for a Brotherhood man to drop in 
and buy him a drink. When told that he 
was wanted to take out the Pacific express, 
the bum straightened up, hitched his suspen- 
derless trousers and asked : " Who 're you ? " 
" I 'm the foreman ; come and have a bite o' 
breakfast and let 's be off." 
" Well — folks gen'ly drink afore they eat — 
come on, le 's have a horn. Here, bar-keep, 
give us a couple o'. slugs." 
" Got any dough ? " 

" Now don't git gay — I 'm goin* down to 
take me run out- -here's me foreman." 
" But you must not drink," broke in the 
official, " when you are going out on an ex- 
press train." 
" What ? " 

[68] 



ii 



^ CHAPTER VII ^ 



s 
n 
e 

3, 

I- 



to 



" You must not drink." 
"Then I don't work. Th' Brotherhood 11 
pay me four dollars a day to sit right here 
and keep three gages an' a flutter in the 
stack — go on with yer damn ol' railroad — " 
" Come now, Billy," pleaded the foreman, 
" this is an opportunity — " 
" Billy ! Month ago Stonaker's nigger threw 
me down the steps." 

" Give 'm a drink," said the foreman, and 
the bar-keeper set out two glasses and a 
large red bottle. While the foreman's back 
was turned and the bar-man waited upon 
another customer, Billy did the honors. He 
filled both glasses and had emptied one 
when the foreman, having unearthed a 
quarter, turned and remarked to the liquor 
man that he did not drink. The man was 
in the act of removing the glass when 
Billy grabbed it, and with a quick crook 
of his elbow pitched the whiskey down his 
neck. 

" Now will you go and eat ? '* 

[69] 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



'4 



i 



** Niiw —go t' work," said Greene, hitching 
up his trousers. 

Off they went together, hut at every saloon 
(and there are dozens of them in Chicago), 
the new engineer of the Pacific express in- 
sisted upon drinking. By hard coaxing the 
foreman had succeeded in passing three or 
four of them when they were met by a cou- 
ple of strikers. 

** Hello Billy," said one of the men. " Where 
you gom ? 

" Goin' t' take me run out," said Greene, 
with another hitch. 

"Now you fellows break away," said the 
foreman, for the strikers had turned and 
were walking with the others. 
*' Reckon you don't own the side-walk, do 
you ? " said one of the men, and the fore- 
man was silent. 

"Did n't think you 'd shake us Hke this 
Billy," began the striker. " We intended to 
ito the order to-dav an' en 



you 



up 



with a good big blow-out to-night. It's all 

[70] 



^ CHAPTER VII 5€^ 



P 

11 



right Billy. You go out on your run and 

when you get in come round to the Pacific 

an' we 11 square you with the boys." 

"An' we'll have a bowl together, eh?" said 

Billy, for the liquor was beginning to make 

him happy. 

The foreman was white with rage, but he 

was powerless. 

" You bet wc will, Hilly," said the man who 

had done the talking. 

" Hur — what 's this, boss ?" 

*' Come along now," urged the foreman, 

tugging at Billy's arm. 

" Never run by a tank," said Billy, setting 

the air and coming to a dead stall at the 

open door of a beer saloon. The silent 

striker had entered the saloon, the other 

paused in the door, looked back, nodded 

and asked : *' Have somethinj 



'&' 



Billy, 



you go 



" Will I ?" cried Billy, as he twisted from 

the foreman's grasp. 

" Police — here — officer ! " cried the fore- 



[71 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



man, and wlien the copper came he found 
Billy just swallowing his second straight. 
" Here," said the foreman, excitedly, " I 
want you to arrest these men." 
" Better get a warrant first," said one of the 
strikers coolly. " We simply came in here 
to have a drink," he explained to the offi- 
cer. 

"Phat's th' row hier, Tony?" asked the 
policeman. 

" Th' ain't no row as I can see," said the 
bar-keeper, "these gents is 'aving a quiet 
drink w'en 'ees nibs there pips in an' calls 
fer a cop." 

"This is one of our engineers," explained 
the foreman, " and I was on the way to the 
station with him when these strikers took 
him away." 

" Begad, he 's a bute," said the officer, fold- 
ing his arms over his ample stomach and 
gazing with mirthful curiosity at the bum. 
"Now, ye's fellies must not interfere with 
men as wants to make an honest 



[72] 



living- 



^ CHAPTER \U Sfr 



led 



)ok 



)ld- 
ind 



rith 



let th' ingineer go t' 'is iiigiiie," Jiiul he gave 
Billy a shove that sent him into the arms of 
the waiting foreman. 

*' What s it to you," shouted the angry en- 
gine-driver, *' who wants to work — who said 
I wanted t' make a' honest livin' ? — Go t' 
ell," and he struck the foreman in the face. 
"Here! Here!!" cried the officer, seizing 
the fighter, " you '11 go to work or go to 
jail," and Billy went away between the 
copper and the foreman with his wheels 
sliding. 

After much coaxing and cursing by the 
foreman, who was often asked to come out 
in the alley and settle it, Billy was loaded 
into an engine cab. While the foreman was 
selecting a fireman from the hard-looking 
herd of applicants sent down from the office 
of the master-mechanic, the gentle warmth 
of the boiler-head put Billy to sleep. It was 
a sound, and apparently dreamless sleep, 
from which he did not wake the while they 
rolled him from the engine, loaded him into 

[73] 



:^ 






n 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

a hurry-up ^^ agon and carried him away to 
the cooler. 

When he had sobered up Greene went to 
the round-house and offered his services to 
the company, but the foreman would not 
talk tj him. Finally Greene became abu- 
sive, and the foreman kicked him out of 
the round-house and across the turntable. 
From that day Greene was a striker, and a 
very troublesome one. 



ii t 



m 



[74 ] 



CHAPTER EIGHTH 



J. wo weeks had passed when the Philoso- 
pher met Patsy, now m deep disgraee. Pat- 
sy had been expelled from the Brotherhood 
for aiding a scab. " O I it s nothing," said 
Patsy. 

"That's right. It woi^'t be worth much to 
belong to the Union ^ len this cruel war is 
over." 

" Only a fellow hates to get the worst of it 
when he really tries to tote fair. ' 
" The best you can get is the worst of it 
when you are bound by oath to an organi- 
zation that is engaged in a hopeless %ht. 
The president offered ye:;terday to take 
back seventy-five per cent, of the men, and 
immediately they said he was running. This 
morning the offer is for sixty per cent., but 
they won't have it. Have they offered to 
balm you with promotion ?" 
" Yes." 

" Varnished cars, eh ?" 
" Yep — finest train on the road." 

[75] 



t t 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 




" And you told them ?— " 
- No." 

" Well, I think you did right. Shall we go 
and peck ?" 

*' Have you been working ?" 
" No. 1 Ve been vag'd. When the police 
got through with me, and returned my 
pie-card I turned it in for a commutation 
ticket, and there are still a few feeds to the 
good on it. The commutation ticket is the 
proper card for a gentleman in straitened 
circumstan«jes. You are no . obliged to gorge 
yourself at early morn with a whole twenty- 
cent breakfast when all you really need is a 
cup of black coffee i^ad a roll. Besides, when 
a man is not working he should not eat so 
much. 1 frequently edge in with a crowd of 
other gentlemen and procure a nice warm 
lunch at one of the beer saloons, omitting 
the beer. By the way, the free lunch room 
is a good place for the study of human na- 
ture. There you will see the poor working 
man fish up his last five cents to pay for 

[ 76 ] 



Z'* I I ' 



^ CHAPTER VIII S^ 



a 



so 
of 



>m 

la- 



tor 



a beer in order to get a hot lunch, and if 
you look closely, spot a two-by-four-shop- 
keeper, for instance, as he enters the front 
door^ and keep your eye on him until he 
goes out again, you will observe that he 
hasn't lost a cent. A little dark man who 
runs a three-ball in La Salle Street makes a 
business of this, and of loaning money at 
fifty per cent, and seems to be doing quite 
well." 

When they had reached a " Kohlsaat " the 
two men sat down, or up, and when they 
had finished Patsy paid for the meal. 
" If you see a man who has wood to saw or 
a piano to tune or anything that is n't scab- 
bin' I wish you 'd give me a character and 
get me the job," said the Philosopher when 
they had reached the sidewalk. 
" You follow my smoke," said Patsy, after a 
moment's meditation, and he strolled down 
the crowded street, turning and twisting 
through the multitude like a man trying 
to lose a dog, but he could n't lose the Phi- 

[77] 



!; 



i t 




! ■' 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

losoj^lier. Presently he stepped in front of a 
big building, waited for his companion, and 
they went in together. 

" Mr. Stonaker," said Patsy when he had 
been admitted to the general manager's 
private office, " I have a favor to ask. I 
want you to give a friend of mine a job. 
He's a switchman, and a good trainman, 
but he will not take the place of a striker." 
" Can you vouch for his honesty, Patsy ? " 
asked the official. 
" I think I can." 

*' Vgyy well, we want a reliable watchman 
here in the building ; bring your friend in." 
When the Philosopror had been informed 
as to his new duties, and learned that he 
Avas to have charge of the entire building, 
he asked if Patsy had given his history. 
" I have vouched for you," said Patsy, a 
little embarrassed. 

The general manager pressed a button and 
when the stenographer came in instructed 
him to take the man's personal record, in 

[ 78 ] 



■n 



^ CHAPTER VI II Sfr 



accordance with a well-known rule. This 
information is intended chiefly as a guide to 
the managenient in notifying the relatives 
or friends of an employee in case of accident 
or death. The manager did the questioning 
and when the man had given his name and 
declared that he had no relatives, no home, 
no friends — except Patsy — ti;e official 
showed some surprise and asked : 
** Where did you work last ? " 
" In the workhouse." 

" When ? " queried the general manager, 
casting a quick glance at Patsy, who was 
growing nervous. 
" 'Bout a year ago no^:" 
"At what particular place have you lived 
or lodged since that time ? " 
" In jail." 

" What were you in jail for ? " 
" Stealing a meal-ticket, this coat and cap 
from Patsy." 

" I gave the things to him, sir," said Patsy, 
" and he was discharged." 

[79 ] 



mt I 'lr- i mi i r ii i ■••--•■^- " ■ ■■-^■.■j'- .--— - 



li I 



i ! 







^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S€» 

" Where have you been living since you 
left the workhouse?" 
'* In the streets and in the fields." 
" Do you drink ? " 
" No, sir." 

*' Do you mean to tell me that an experi- 
enced yardman, strong and intelligent as 
you appear to be, can sink so low without 
being a drunkard ? " 
" Yes, s?r." 

" And you have been foreman in the Buffalo 
yards ? Wliat else have you been ? " 
" A Union man, tramp, bum, vag, thief, and 
a scab." 

" Huh ! " said the general manager, push- 
ing out his lips, " is this your notion of a 
reliable man. Patsy ? " 
" Yes, sir, I still vouch for him." 
The general manager looked puzzled. ** But 
you could hardly expect me to employ, in 
a responsible position, a self-confessed crim- 
mal ? " 

" And yet," said the Philosopher, " if I had 

[80] 




^ CHAPTER VIII ^ 

lied to you I might have gained a good 
place, but having told the truth I suppose 
I must go." 

The general manager, who had left his seat, 
began to pace the floor. 
"It may be possible for an honest man to 
be a tramp — even a vag, but why did you 
steal ? " 

" For the same reason that I took the place 
of a striker the other day — because I was 
hungry," said the Philosopher looking the 
general manager full in the face. 
" But what brought you to this condition ? 
that 's what I want to know," said the offi- 
cial earnestly. *' And if you can explain that, 
you can have the place, provided you really 
want to reform." 

" I 'm not so anxious to reform," said the 
Philosopher. " What I want is a show to 
earn an honest living, and let the balance 
of the world reform. But if you want to 
know what brouglit me to my present con- 
dition I can tell you — this is the instru- 

[81 j 



X 



X 



saaaiaiiwaiiigMMiM 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADIJGHT h» 

ment." And tlie man lifted from the man- 
ager's desk a slip of paper, full of names, 
across the top of which was printed " Black 
I^ist." 

" It 's the blight of the black-list that is 
upon me, sir, and it gives me pleasure to be 
able to present to you a sample of the class 
of citizens you and your associates are turn- 
ing out," said the Philosopher with much 
feeling, and he turned to go. 
" Stay," said Patsy. " IVIr. Stonaker, you told 
me yesterday that if I ever needed your 
assistance in any way to make my wants 
known." 

" And do you still vouch for this man ? " 
- I do." 
" Very well, then — he can have the place I " 



I ; 



:1 



r «•■* J 



CHAPTER NINTH 



JjIh. Hawkins had been in his new lodg- 
ings nearly a week and had frequently dis- 
cussed the strike with the great labor leader, 
when he made bold one evening to state 
that he had no use for the Brotherhood and 
that he had it from inside sources that a 
number of the old engineers were going to 
return to work, and that the strike would 
soon be a thing of the past, as would the 
comfortable jobs that the strikers had left. 
Cowels, of course, was mdignant, but he 
was mterested. Mr. Hawkins had expected 
as much. 

" I 'm going out firing myself," he went on, 
" and I 'm promised promotion as soon as 1 
can start and stop. Tf I hud your experience 
and your ability, generally, I could get the 
best run on the roa(| \y\i\\ a cinch on a 
job as M. M. at the first opening. A good 
man who goes to the couipany'H icHCue 
now won't want for anything. If he 's hard 
up he can get all the money he needs — 

[ Ha J 



i 



•as** 



I 

I 






i 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

that is a fow liundred at least — advanced 
to him." 

Cowels listened attentively. 
Mr. Hawkins lighted a fresh ten-cent cigar 
and gave one to his landlord. 
** Of course, it 's different with you," resumed 
the lodger, *' you own your home and have 
saved your money, perhaps, but a whole lot 
of the strikers are being pinched and they 're 
going to weaken. They'll be cursed a little 
bit by the Brotherhood, but the public is 
dead against the strikers — read the Chicago 
papers to-day." 

" But the papers are owned body and soul 
by the Burlington," said Cowels. 
"Well, what do you fellows own? That 
only shows which is the winning side. You 
take my advice and let go while you 've got 
plenty." 

"Plenty?" echoed Cowels. "Do you sup- 
pose I'd take a stranger into my home — 
do you think for a minute that I would sit 
here and let you talk to me as you have 

[ 84] 



,•( 



^ CHAPTER IX 5^ 



oil 



sit 
Lve 



done if I could help myself '( Plenty I I 'm a 
beggjir." 

Hawkins knew that, but he expressed sur- 
prise. Whc.i they had smoked in silence for 
a while the plumber handed an unsealed 
letter to his landlord and watched his face 
closely as he read it. 

The letter was from one of the Burlington 
officials and it stated plainly that the bearer 
was empowered to make terms with the 
gentleman addressed looking to his return 
to the service of the company. 
Mr. Cowels was very indignant, at first, but 
finally consented to discuss the matter. Mr. 
Hawkins was very cool, explauiing that it 
made no difference with him one way or 
the other. The official happened to be a 
personal friend of his and had trusted him 
witii this commission. '* If you ask my ad- 
vice," said the plumber, " I should say take 
whatever they offer and go to work. No 
man can hold out against such odds for any 
great length of time ; sooner or later you will 

[ 83] 



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23 WEST MAIN STREET 

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(716) 872-4503 



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^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

be as hard up as the rest, your v/ife will be 
in need of the actual necessaries of life, your 
children will be crying for food, and how 
can you answer them if you let this oppor- 
tunity pass ? To-morrow, I am told, is to be 
the last day of grace, so you might better 
heel yourself and let the Brotherhood walk 
the floor for a while. The probabilities are 
that the strike will simply be declared off, 
the old employees to be taken back only as 
their services are required, and as new men. 
Every day that passes adds to the strength 
of the company. Labor organizations, like 
bands of Indians, are ever at each other's 
throats. When the Knights of Labor struck 
on the Reading those haughty aristocrats of 
the working world, the Engineers' Brother- 
hood, took their places, and now the Knights 
of Labor engineers are coming here in car- 
load lots to fill the cabs of the Burlington. 
If the engineers were offered their old places 
back to-day they would bolt for the round- 
house nor cast one longing, lingering look 

[86] 



^ CHAPTER IX h^ 



for their old friends. Finally, when the 
strike is settled it will be by the engineers. 
If it is to be declared off, the unconditional 
surrender of all the forces will be made bv 
them. If the terms of settlement suit them, 
your followers will take their medicine and 
look pleasant. Bring the matter nearer 
home, — to your own experience. You have 
given your time, neglected your family, and 
worked unceasingly for the advancement of 
the cause. Your eloquence, your genius and 
your influence have held the men in line 
when they have wavered and would have 
broken, and what has your own order done 
for you, and what v/ill it do at the coming 
convention ? They have guyed you in public 
and they will throw you down hard when 
the time comes. It 's nothing to me, only I 
hate to see a good man turned down. I dis- 
like to see real talent and personal worth 
wasted upon a lot of loud-mouthed, un- 
educated coyotes who don't know who 
Shakespeare is. You re too big a man, 

[ 87] 



•' ' 






'.•i 






'i 



'i 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Cowels, that 's the trouble ; you 're out of 
your sphere. When you are master-me- 
chanic, with your hands full of promo- 
tions, they will look up to you, and it is 
all within easy reach. If you will report 
for duty to-morrow morning you can go 
out on Blackwings to-morrow night, with 
the Denver Limited, the finest train in the 
West, behind you. The best run on the 
road will be the meanest position you will 
ever be asked to fill. But I must say no 
more, for I don't want to persuade you to 
take a step which you might regret in after 
years. I only ask you to think it over to- 
night and choose between what you call 
loyalty to the Brotherhood, and your plain 
duty to your family — Good-night." 
Hawkins possessed, in a remarkable degree, 
the rare faculty of knowing how and when 
to let go. 

When Cowels had made the foregoing facts 
known to his wife, she was greatly surprised 
that he would entertain such a proposition 

[88] 



5<^ 



egree, 
when 

facts 

)rised 

)sition 



^ CHAPTER IX ^ 

for the smallest fraction of a second, for she 
had always regarded him as the soul of 
honor, and wholly unselfish. Now each pon- 
dered in silence over the proposition. From 
her point of view it was a choice between 
the Brotherhood and her home. Between 
temporary disgrace for her husband, and 
hunger for her children, and she was not 
long in making up her mind. The baby had 
been without milk that day. It had gone to 
bed hungry for the first time in its life, and 
the thought of it made her desperate. 
To Cowels's way of reasoning it was simply 
a question of choice between the position of 
master of the Brotherhood and master-me- 
chanic. Which was nearest, and which would 
last longest and pay best? These were the 
points he was considering, and he chose 
what appeared to him to be the surest and 
quickest way. To be sure, he suffered not a 
little at the thought of deserting his com- 
rades, but his personal ambition and selfish- 
ness helped him to determine to report on 

[8!) ] 



mm 






.( V 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

the following morning, and to go out with 
the fast express behind him on the following 
night. He tried not to think of the Brother- 
hood, and to fashion to himself the glory of 
success, of fast runs with Blackwings, and 
future promotion. 



[ 90] 



t V 

> i 



i"^'''"""it'SaB8W 



CHAPTEll TENTH 



and 



L HE night winds moaned among the empty 
freight cars. The arc lamps hummed and 
sputtered, making the flying frost look like 
diamond dust dropping from tlie grinding 
stars. Out of a shadowy alley a bent man 
crept, croucliing under the snow-hung eaves. 
Far down the track, at a crossing, the man 
saw the flash of a helmet and the glint of 
brass buttons, and dodged among the cars. 
The man had committed no crime against 
the law, but he was willing to, and so 
avoided the silent guardian of the peace, 
pacing his beat. Beyond the track he came 
to the street door of a two-story building, 
struck a match, read the number on the 
transom, and entered the hall. At the top of 
the first flight of stairs a door stood open. 
Beneath a gas jet in the open room Dan 
Moran sat reading a book. He had heard 
the unsteady footsteps on the stiiir, but had 
not allowed them to disturb him. Now the 
prowler paused, steadied himself against 

[91 ] 



! t 









.1 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 



the door-jamb, coughed, hiccoughed, hello'd 
m a whisper, and Moran looked up. 
"Well, Greene," said Dan, "what brings 
you abroad on a night like this ? " 
" Business I " was the half-whispered reply, 
" Business, ol' man." 

Now the rum-crazed rambler left the door, 
put a trembling hand on the table in the 
centre of the room, glanced back toward 
the stairs, and peered into the face of the 
old engineer. " We are betrayed I " he whis- 
pered, leaning heavily upon the stand. His 
wrist shook violently, causing the table to 
quiver. The smoking outfit upon the table 
made a low, rumbling noise. "What 's that ? " 
he asked, glaring about. 
Having satisfied himself that all was right 
he put both hands upon the table, and 
gazing again into the face of Moran, re- 
peated : " We are betrayed. Cowels is goin' 
out with Blackwings on the Denver Limited 
to-morrow night. The plumber told the 
foreman an hour ago — I heard 'im. Least 

[92] 



'5<^ 

lello'd 

brings 

reply, 

door, 
in the 
;oward 
of the 
J whis- 
id. His 
tble to 
i table 
that ? " 

right 
, and 
m, re- 
k goin' 
imited 
id the 
Least 






^ CHAPTER X ^ 






they think he 's goin\ but he ain't. He 's 
gom to — 

" Oh, Greene, you 're drunk. Go home and 
have a good sleep." 

" Home ! Did you say home ? I ain't got no 
home. Drunk ? Yes, I been drunk lots o' 
times, but I ain't drunk now. Honest, I 
ain't teched a drop to-day. Got a bot about 
you, ol' man ? Say, if you have, fur th' love 
o' life gimme a drop — half a drop — Dan, 
I 'm all afire inside." 

It was an awful picture that Moran looked 
upon now. The bloated face, the sunken, 
blood-shot eyes, the blazing, hideous nose, 
burning in the iron-gray stubble, all topped 
by a shock of tousled, unkenipt hair, made 
a picture horrible in the extreme. 
" Say ! " Greene began again, glancing to- 
ward the door, "meet me at seven thirty 
to-morrow night, on the * rep ' track near 
the round-house, an' I'll show you a trick." 
" What sort of trick will you show me ? " 
With another look over his shoulder at the 

[93] 



I'i 



^; SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

door the drunkard leaned over the bible and 
whispered. When the old engineer had gath- 
ered what the man had said he got to his 
feet, took his nriidnight caller by the collar 
and lead him to the top of the stiiirs. Greene 
was opposed to leaving the cheerful room, 
so Moran was obliged to go w^ith him to the 
street door. Having put the wreck out into 
the frosty night the engineer went back to 
his book. But he could not read. That aw- 
ful face into which he had looked, and the 
black soul that he had seen as well, haunted 
him. He sat with his feet upon the table 
and smoked pipe after pipe, in a vain effort 
to drive the frightfid picture from his mind. 
The news that C^eene had brought dis- 
turbed him "also. His fireman was going to 
desert VtJi^^Brotherhood, and take their old 
engine out. 

Blackwings ! How he loved that locomotive, 
and how absurd it seemed now for a man to 
become so attached to a mere machine ! But 
she was not inanimate. She lived, moved, 

[94 ] 



^ CHAPTER X ^ 



breathed How often, as they swept be- 
neath the stars of an autumn night, had he 
felt her h.ot breath upon his faee, heard the 
steel singing beneath her feet and felt her 
tremble, responsive to his lightest toueh. 
How wild and free and glad she had 
seemed, let loose in the moonlight with the 
Limited behind her. How gracefully, easily, 
she lifted the huge, vestibuled train from 
swale to swell. How she always passed sta- 
tion after stiition on the tick of the clock, 
keeping to the time-card, unvarying as the 
sun. Proud and queenly, yet gentle, she 
always answered the signals of the less for- 
tunate locomotives that stood panting on 
the side tracks, with their heavy loads. 
Even the Meteor, the engine that wore 
white flags and pulled the president's pri- 
vate car, always took the siding and saluted 
Blackwings as she swept by majestically 
with the Limited. 

More than once Moran had refused promo- 
tion that would take him from his engine 

[ 95] 



I' 



I 



^ SNOW ON Tin: HEADLIGHT ^ 

— from tlie open fields and free, wide world 
in which they lived and moved together — 
to the cares and anxieties of a stuffy office. 
He had been contented and happy with 
Blackwings, his books and his briar-root 
pipe. He did not share the troubles of his 
less fortunate brothers, who hugged and 
exaggerated their grievances until they be- 
came, to them, unbearable. Hut when they 
quit he climbed down, took off his over- 
clothes, folded them carefully and carried 
them away with him. He had nothing to 
gain by the strike, but he had much to lose 
by remaining at his post — the confidence 
and respect of his fellow-toilers. Besides he, 
in common with the rest, regarded the clas- 
sification of engineers as unfair to the men 
and to the travelling public. If a man were 
competent to handle a passenger train, said 
the strikers, he ought to have first-class pay. 
If he were incompetent he ought to be 
taken off, for thousands of lives were in the 
hands of the engineer during the three years 

[96] 



i 






^ CHAPTER X S«* 



leiice 
s he, 
clas- 
nicii 
were 

said 

pay. 

) be 
the 

ears 



through which, at rechiced pay, he was be- 
conung competent. These were the argu- 
ments atlvauced by the men. This business 
upon the one hand, and a deep longnig upon 
the part of the management to learn just 
how far the men could go in the way of dic- 
tating to the officials, in fixing the load for 
a locomotive, and the pay of employees, 
caused the company, after years of sparing, 
to undertake the chastisement of the Bro- 
therhood of Locomotive Engineers.* 
It is to be presumed that the generals, 
colonels and captains in the two armies 
fought for what they considered right. At 
all events ihey were loyal and obedient to 
their superiors. But each had found a foe 
vastly more formidable than had been ex- 

* The Burl'mgton officials claim that, by resolufio7is in the 
lodge room at Lincoln, the engineers Jixed the load for cer- 
tain classes of engines, together with the penalty for pulling 
more. They argue that if allowed to do this the men would 
want to make the time-cards and fix foeight rates. They cer- 
tainly had as much right to do the one as the other. 



[97] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



pected. They had not dreamed that the 
fight could become so bitter. Life-long 
friends became enemies. Family ties were 
severed, homes were ruined, men's lives 
were wrecked, women's hearts were broken, 
and out of the shadow of the awful strife 
came men fit for murder. It was these 
things that had kept Dan Moran awake 
far into the morning. 

Presently he heard a whistle, opened his 
eyes, looked at his watch and then un- 
dressed and went to bed, while other work- 
men, more happily situated, passed under 
his window on the way to work. 






If ^ 



[98] 



(I 



^'^ 



it the 

e-long 
were 
lives 

roken, 
strife 
these 

awake 

ed his 

m un- 

work- 

under 



CHAPTER ELEVENTH 

xJiiusH the snow off* the headhght I " 
" What ? " 

*' Brush the snow off* the he'idhght ! " 
It was the first time the engineer had 
spoken to the fireman since they left Chi- 
cago. When they crossed the last switch 
and left the lights of the city behind them 
he had settled down in his place, his eyes, 
with a sort of dazed look in them, fixed 
upon the front window. The snow was 
driving from the north-west so hard that 
it was impossible for the engineer, even 
when running slowly thro'ugh the country 
towns, tc put his head outside the cab, and 
now they were falling out into the night at 
the rate of a mile a minute. 
It was Barney Guerin s first trip r.s a fire- 
man. He was almost exhausted by the honest 
effort he had been making to keep the engine 
hot. and now he looked at tlie engmeer in 
mingled surprise and horror. He could not 
believe that the man expected him to go 

[ 99 ] 



i 'I 



' I i <i 






^ii 



I ■ 

I: 



' i 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 



out over the wet and slippery running-board 
to the pilot and wipe the snow from the 
headlight glass. He stood and stared so long 
that the fire burned low and the pointer on 
the steam gauge went back five pounds. For 
the next two or three minutes he busied 
himself at the furnace door, and when he 
finally straightened up, half-blinded by the 
awful glare of the fire-box, half-dazed by 
being thrown and beaten against the sides 
of the coal tank, the engineer said : 
" Brush the snow off the headlight ! " 
The fireman opened the narrow door in 
front of him and the storm came in so 
furiously that he involuntarily closed it 
again. Again he tried and again was beaten 
back by the wind. Pulling his cap tight 
down he faced about and stepped out 
with his back to the storm. Holding to 
the hand railing he worked his way to the 
front end. One sweep of his gloved hand 
swept the snow away and the great glare 
of the headligiit flashed up the track. 

[ 100 ] 



T5^ 



^ CHAPTER XI SO^ 



-board 
m the 
;o long 
iter on 
is. For 
busied 
len he 
by the 
sed by 
e sides 



oor in 
in so 
sed it 
Ibeaten 
tight 
Id out 
ng to 
Ito the 
hand 
glare 



" My God I how she rolls ! " exclaimed the 
engineer. 
And she did roll. 

Never before in the history of the road had 
the Denver I^imited been entrusted to a 
green crew, for the engineer was also mak- 
ing his maiden trip. The day coach was al- 
most empty. In the chair car, with four 
chairs turned together, the newly-made 
conductor, the head brakeman, a country 
editor, and the detective sent out to spot 
the crew, played high five. The three or 
four passengers in the sleeper were not 
asleep. They were sitting silently at the 
curtained window^s and occasionally casting 
anxious glances at the Pullman conductor 
who seemed to be expecting something to 
happen. Where were all the people who 
used to travel by this splendid train ? The 
road was now considered, by most people, 
as unsafe and the people were going round 
it. Public opinion, at the beginning of the 
strike, was about equally divided between 

[ 101 ] 




1 



I 



f 



4 



M 

Mi 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

the men and the company. Now and then 
a reckless striker or sympathizer would blow 
up a building, dope a locomotive or ditch a 
train, and the stock of the strikers would go 
down in the estimation of the public. Bur- 
lington stock was falling rapidly — the pro- 
perty was being wrecked. 
On nearly every side track could be seen 
two or three dead engines that had been 
ruined and abandoned by amateur engine- 
drivers, and now and then at way-stations 
the smouldering ruins of a freight train, 
whose blackened skeleton still clung to the 
warped and twisted track. At every station 
great crowds of people blocked the plat- 
forms, for the Limited had not been able to 
leave Chicago for more than a month. The 
engineer had scarcely touched the whistle, 
deeming it safer to slip quietly through the 
night, and the light train was now speed- 
ing noiselessly over the snow-muffled earth. 
They had left Chicago two hours late, and 
as they had a clear track, so far as other 

[ 102 ] 




^ CHAPTER XI ^ 



trains were concerned, the young driver was 
letting her go regardless of danger. At any 
moment they might expect to be blown into 
eternity, and it was just as safe at seventy 
miles an hour as at seventeen. 
Besides, George Cowels was desperate. For 
five long years he had fired this run with 
the same locomotive. He knew all her tricks 
and whims, her speed and power, and the 
road was as familiar to him as was his 
mother's face. He knew where the " old 
man" used to cut her back and ease off* 
on the down grades. He knew that he 
ought to do the same, but he did not. 
*' Let her roll," he would say to himself; 
and she did roll, and with every swing the 
bell sounded a single note, low and mourn- 
ful, like a church bell tolling for the dead. 
It seemed to the unhappy engineer that it 
tolled for him, for that day he had died to 
all his friends. 

Although he had only been out a little over 
an hour now, he knew that w that hour the 

[ 103 ] 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT Sfr 

story of his desertion had flashed out to 
every division of the various brotherhoods 
in the United States, Canada and Mexico, 
and that a hundred thousand men and 
women would curse him that night before 
they slept. He recollected what a vigorous 
striker he had been in the beginning, how he 
had shouted, *' Put him out " when the grand 
master had said : " We are fighting a losing 
fight." He recalled with some bitterness that 
their leader had looked him straight in the 
face when he added : " And you who fight 
hardest here will be first to fall." 
Then the face of his ten-year-old boy rose 
up before him, as it had appeared from the 
street as he was leaving his home that even- 
ing, all bruised and bleeding, with soiled 
and torn clothes, and he heard the brave 
child's explanation : " Mamma, I would n't 
ave fit, but Dugan's boy said my papa was 
a scab.'"*^ 

* The reader must pardon the use of this vulgar rvord,for 
we must use it here or spoil this story. 

[ 104 ] 



r5^ 

)llt to 
rhoods 
[exico, 
n and 
before 
LTorous 
low he 
grand 
losing 
ss that 
in the 
3 fight 

y rose 
m the 
even- 
soiled 
brave 
lid n't 
)a was 

ord,Jbr 



/:iS 



li 



I -m 



^ CHAPTER XI 5^ 

Ordinarily it would re(|uire a great deal of 
" sand " to enable a man to take out a train 
of this kind and run at such a high rate of 
speed through a country full of anarchy, but 
in Cowels's case it required nothing in the 
way of bravery. The great sacrifice he had 
made in abandoning all that he held to be 
honorable, — the breaking of his vow, the 
idolation of his oath, had left him utterly 
indifferent to personal danger. 
It will be difficult for those unacquainted 
with the vast army of daily toilers to ap- 
preciate the sufferings of this youthful 
engine-driver. A king, who in a night's 
debauch loses an empire, loses no more 
than the man who abandons all that he 
holds sacred. The struggles and disappoint- 
ments of the poor mean as much to them 
as similar sorrows mean to the rich. The 
heart of a Bohemian milkmaid beats as 
wildly, aches as sorely and breaks as surely 
as does the heart of the proudest princess. 
This man and his wife, on the day they 

[ 105 ] 






II 



I I 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

abandoned the cause of his comrades — of 
the Brotherhood of which he had been so 
proud, of whose strength he had boasted in 
many a crowded hall — made a great sacri- 
fice. To stand disgraced in their little world 
was to be disgraced before all the people of 
all the earth, for in that world were the only 
people they knew and cared about. 
When the fireman returned to the cab he 
was almost overcome with terror. More than 
once, as he worked his way along the side of 
the rolling, plunging engine, he had nearly 
been dashed to death. The very machine, he 
fancied, was striving to shake him from her. 
Once he had lost his footing on the running 
board and only saved himself by clinging 
to the hand rail while the rolling steed beat 
and thrashed him against her iron side. 
"Never ask me to do that again," he 
shouted, as he shook his clenched fist at 
the engineer. The latter laughed, then 
asked : 
" Why ? " 

[ 106 ] 



he 
ist at 
then 



^ CHAPTER XI 5^ 



" liecaiise it is dangerous ; I nearly lost my 
life." 

" And what if you had ? " said the engineer, 
and he laughed again. *' Why, don't you 
know that thousands would rejoice at the 
news of your death and scarcely a man 
would mourn ? Don't you know that at 
thousands of supper-tiibles to-night, work- 
ing men who could afford to buy an evening 
paper read your name and cursed you be- 
fore their wives and children ? Nearly lost 
your life ! Poor, miserable, contemptible 
scab." 

" Never apply that name to me again ! " 
shouted Guerin, and this time it was not 
his fist but the coal-pick he shoved up uito 
the very face of the engineer. 
" Why'? " 

" Because it is dangerous ; you nearly lost 
your hfe." 

The engineer made no reply. 
" And what if you had ? ' the fireman went 
on, for it was his turn to talk now. 

[ 107 ] 




% 



ii 



} 



1 ' 



< !i 



I 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT SO^ 

"If my action makes me contemptible in 
the eyes of men, how much more contempt- 
ible must yours make you ? I take the place 
of a stranger — you the place of a friend ; a 
man who has educated you, who has taught 
you all you know about this machine. Right 
well I know how I shall be hated by the 
dynamiters who are blowing up bridges and 
burning cars, and I tell you now that it 
does not grieve me. Can you say as much ? 
Here 's a copy of the message that went out 
to your miserable little world to-night — 
read it, it will do you good. I fancy your 
friends will be too busy cursing you this 
evening to devote any time to mere stran- 
gers." 

Cowels took the message with a jerk, turned 
the gauge lamp to his corner and read : 

J. HE Denver Limited left to-night, two 
hours late, Fireman George Cowels as en- 
gineer, and Time-keeper Guerin as fireman. 
Cowels is the man who wanted the grand 

[ 108 ] 



1% 



^ CHArTER XI h^ 



master thrown out of ii luill in Chiciit^o. He 
was a great labor agitator and his desertion 
is a great surprise. llcxiAN. 

Later — It is now understood that Cowels, 
tlie seab who went out on engine Bhiek- 
wings to-night, was bought outright by a 
Burlington deteetive. This fact makes his 
action all the more contemptible. Me is now 
being burned in effigy on the lake front, and 
the police are busy trying to keep an infuri- 
ated mob from raiding and burning his house. 
The action of Guerin was no surprise, as he 
was employed in the ofiice of the master- 
mechanic, and has always been regarded as 
a company man — almost as an official. 

Hog AN. 
Guerin, having put in a fresh fire, stood 
watching the face of his companion, and 
when the engineer crumpled the message 
in his hand and ground his teeth together 
the fireman shoved another message under 
the nose of the unhappy man. This message 
was on the same subject, but from quite 

[ 109 ] 



f ■ 1'^ 



i* 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADI.KillT ^ 

another source, and varied slightly from 
those we have just read. 

Official Bullftin : Burlington Route 
The Denver Limited went out on time to- 
night with a reasonably well-filled train, En- 
gineer Cowtls in the cab. Mr. Cowels has 
been many years in the service of the com- 
pany and is highly esteemed by the officials. 
Although he was, for a time, a prominent 
striker, he saw the folly of further resistance 
on the part of the employees, and this morn- 
ing came to the company's office and begged 
to be allowed to return to his old run, which 
request was granted. Cowels is a thoroughly 
competent engineer and has been on this 
same run for five years, and up to the time 
of the strike had never missed a trip. It is 
expected that his return to his engine will 
be the signal for a general stampede. The 
company has generously agreed to reinstate 
all old employees (unless guilty of some law- 
less act) who return before noon to-morrow. 

Stonaker. 
[ 110] 



>: 



^ CHArTEll XI S^ 



from 



It v/oiild be (lifHcult to say which of tliese 
(lispjitches distressed him most. The first 
said he had sohl himself for so much money, 
the second that he had gone to tlie com- 
pany and begged to be reinstated. Slowly 
he opened the first crumpled message and 
read down to the word *' scab." " (ieorge 
Cowels, the scab, — burned in effigy^ — a 
great mob about his house." All these things 
passed swiftly before him, and the thought 
of his wife and baby being in actual danger, 
his boy being kicked and cuffed about, al- 
most made him mad. He crushed the crum- 
pled messages in his right hand w^hile with 
his left he pulled the throttle wide open. 
The powerful Blackwings. built to make 
time with ten cars loaded, leaped forward 
like a frightened deer. Tne speed of the 
train was now terrific, and the stations, 
miles apart, brushed by them like telegraph 
poles. At Mendota a crowd of men hurled 
sticks and stones at the ^ying train. As the 
stones hailed into the cab, and the broken 

[ 111 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 





glass rained over him, the desperate driver 
never so much as glanced to either side, but 
held his place, his liand on the throttle and 
his eye on the track. For the first time he 
looked at his watch. He was still more than 
an hour late. He remembered how the old 
enghieer had said, an hundred times per- 
haps : " George, an express train should 
never be late; she should be on time or 
in the ditch." 

It was the first time Blackwings had ever 
been an hour late anywhere, and with all 
his greater sorrows this grieved the young 
engine( r. Now at the way stations the 
crowd that awaited them invariably fell 
back as the wild train dashed by, or, if they 
hurled their missiles, those aimed at the loco- 
motive struck the sleeper or flew across the 
track behind it, so great was the speed of 
the train. Cowels yielded at last to the irre- 
sistible desire to see how his companion was 
taking it, but as he bent his gaze in that 
direction it encountered the grinning face 

[ 112 ] 



^^j^l^- 



I 



^ CHAPTER XI 5^ 



or 



of 
tre- 

lal 
ice 



of tlie fireman, into which he threw the 
crumpled paper. Then, as he continued to 
grin, the infuriated engineer grabbed a 
hard-hammer and hurled it murderously at 
Guerin's head. The latter saved his life by a 
clever dodge, and springing to the driver's 
side caught him by the back of the neck 
and shoved his head out at the window and 
held it there. They were just at that mo- 
ment descending a long grade down which 
the most daring driver always ran with a 
closed throttle. Blackwings was wide open, 
and now she appeared to be simply rolling 
and falling through space. Although we 
have no way of knowing how fast she fell, 
it is safe to say she was making ninety miles 
an hour. While the fireman held on to the 
engineer, squeezing and shaking away at 
the back of his neck, the speed of the train 
was increasing with every turn of the wheels. 
Gradually the resistance of the engineer 
grew feebler until all at once he dropped 
across the arm-rest, limp and lifeless. Guerin, 

[ 113 ] 



■WW 



l»1 |l l l i| M> 



'111! 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h» 




i 



finding himself alone on the flying engine, 
had presence of mind enough to close the 
throttle, but with that his knowledge of the 
locomotive ended. He reasoned that in time 
she must run down and stop of herself, and 
then the train crew would come forward and 
relieve his embarrassment. It ne 3r occurred 
to him for a moment that he might be re- 
garded as a murderer, for he had only held 
the engineer down to the seat, with no more 
violence than boys use toward each other in 
play. And while he stood staring at the still 
form of the driver that hung out of the win- 
dow like a pair of wet overalls, the engine 
rolled, the snow drifted deeper and deeper 
on the headlight, and with every roll the 
bell tolled I tolled ! ! like a church bell tolling 
for the dead. The train, slowing down, rolled 
silently over the shrouded earth, the fire in 
the open furnace blackened and died, the 
cold air chilled her flues and the stream of 
water from the open injector flooded the 
boiler of Blackwings and put the death- 

[ "4 ] 






I 



^ CHAPTER XI ^ 



rattle in her throat. When at last the train 
rolled slowly into Galesburg the fireman 
stood on the deck of a dead locomotive, with 
snow on her headlight, and, as the crowd 
surged round him, pointed to the limp form 
of the young engineer that hung in the win- 
dow, dead. 



[ 115 ] 



w w s w i iwnw 



n 



CHAPTER TWELFTH 



Judge Meyer's court was crowded when 
the three big policemen, formed like a foot- 
ball team, wedged their way into the build- 
ing. In the centre of the " A " walked the 
prisoner, handcuffed and chained like a 
murderer. When they had arrived in front 
of the judge and the officers stepped back 
they left the prisoner exposed to the gaze 
of the spectators. Standing six feet two, 
strong and erect, he looked as bold and 
defiant as a Roman warrior, and at sight 
of him there ran a murmur through the 
court room which was promptly silenced by 
the judge. 

In response to the usual questions the pris- 
oner said his name was Dan IVIoran, that his 
occupation was that of a locomotive engi- 
neer. He had been in the employ of the 
Burlington for a quarter of a century — 
ever since he was fifteen years old — but 
being one of the strikers he was now out 
of emplojmient. 

[ 116] 



^ CHAPTER XII S^ 



igi- 
:he 






" You are charged," said the clerk, " with 
trespassing upon the property of the Chi- 
cago, Burhngton & Quincy Railroad Com- 
pany, inciting a riot, attempting to blow up 
a locomotive and threatening the life of the 
engineer. How do you plead ? " 
" Not guilty," said the old engine-driver, and 
as he said this he seemed to grow an inch 
and looked grander than ever. 
Being asked if he desired counsel the pris- 
oner said he did not, that the whole matter 
could be explained by a single witness — an 
employee of the company. 
The company detective and the police offi- 
cers exchanged glances, the judge coughed, 
the crowd of loafers shifted ballast and rested 
on the other foot. Only the prisoner stood 
motionless and erect. 

The detective, the first witness for the prose- 
cution, testified that he had followed the 
prisoner Into the yards from among the 
freight cars, watched him approach the en- 
gine Blackwings and talk with the engineer. 

[ 117 ] 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

He could not make out all that passed, but 
knew that the men had quarrelled. He had 
seen the prisoner stoop down and fumble 
about the air-pump on the engineer's side 
of the engine. He then rose and as he moved 
off made some threat against the life of the 
engineer and about " ditching " the train. 
Being asked to repeat this important part 
of his testimony, the witness admitted that 
he could not repeat the threat exactly, but 
he was positive that the prisoner had threat- 
ened the life of the engineer of the Denver 
Limited. He was positive that the last 
words uttered by the prisoner as he left 
the engine were these : " This train, by this 
time, ought to be in the ditch." The witness 
followed the statement with the explana- 
tion that the train was then nearly two 
hours late. '* This," said the witness, still 
addressing the court, "was found in the 
prisoner's inside coat pocket," and he held 
up a murderous looking stick of dynamite. 
After landing the would-be dynamiter safely 

[ 118] 



I 



^ CHAPTER XII S^ 



fely 



in jail the detective had hastened back to 
the locomotive, which was then about to 
start out on her perilous run, and had found 
a part of the fuse, which had been broken, 
attached to the air brake apparatus. This he 
exhibited, also, and showed that the piece 
of fuse found on the engine fitted the piece 
still on the dynamite. 

It looked hke a clear case of intent to kill 
somebody, and even the prisoner's friends 
began to believe him guilty. Three other 
witnesses were called for the prosecution. 
The company's most trusted detective, and 
a Watchem man testified that the prisoner 
had, up to now, borne a good reputation. 
He had been one of the least noisy of the 
strikers and had often assisted the police 
in protecting the company's property. The 
master-mechanic under whom Dan Moran 
had worked as a locomotive engineer for 



twenty years took the stand and said, with 
something like tears in his voice, that Dan 
had been one of the best men on the road, 

[ 119 ] 



saa 



40? SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Being questioned by the company's attorney 
he gave it as his opinion that no dynamite 
was attached to the air-pump of Blackwings 
when she crossed the table, and that if it 
Avas there at all it must have been put there 
after the engine was coupled on to the 
Denver limited. Then he spoiled all this 
and shocked the prosecutinjr attorney by 
expressing the belief that there must be 
some mistake. 

" Do you mean to say that you disbelieve 
this gentleman, who, at the risk of his life, 
arrested this ruffian and prevented murder ? " 
the lawyer demanded. 

" I mean to say," said the old man slowly, 
"that I don't believe Dan put the dyna- 
mite on the engine." 

When the master-mechanic had been ex- 
cused and was passing out Dan put out his 
hand — both hands in fact, for they were 
chained together — ari the company's offi- 
cer shook the manacled hands of the pris- 
oner and hurried on. 

[ 120 ] 



if 



^ CHAPTER XII Sfr 



)wly, 
iyna- 

ex- 

[t his 

Iwere 

offi- 

ipris- 



When the prosecution hml finished, the 
prisoner was asked to name tlie witness 
upon whom he reUed. 
" George Cowels," said the accused, and 
there ran through the audience another mur- 
mur, the judge frowned, and the standing 
committee shifted back to the other foot. 
" Your Honor, please," said the attorney 
rising, *' we are only wasting time with 
this incorrigible criminal. He must know 
that George Cowels is dead for he un- 
doubtedly had some hand in the murder, 
and now to show you that he had not, he 
has the temerity to stiind up here and pre- 
tend to know nothing whatever about the 
death of the engineer. I must say that, 
quiet and gentle as he is, he is a cunning 
villain to try to throw dust in the eyes of 
the people by pretending to be ignorant 
of Cowels 's death. I submit, your Honor, 
there is no use in wasting time with this 
man, and we ask that he be held without 
bail, to await the action of the grand jury." 

[ 121 ] 




.Mmim 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



i! t 



Dan Moran appeared to pay little or no 
attention to what the lawyer was saying, 
for the news of Cowels's death had been a 
great shock to him. The fact that he had 
been locked up over night and then brought 
from the jail to the court in a closed van 
might have accounted for his ignorance of 
Cowels's death, but no one appeared to 
think of that. But now, finding himself at 
the open door of a prison, with a strong 
chain of circumstantial evidence wound 
about him, he began to show some interest 
in what was going on. 

The judge, having adjusted his glasses, and 
opened and closed a few books that lay on 
his desk, was about to pronounce sentence 
when the prisoner asked to be allowed to 
make a statement. 

This the attorney for the company objected 
to as a waste of time, for he was satisfied of 
the prisoner's guilt, but the judge over-ruled 
the objection and the prisoner testified. 
He admitted having had the dynamite in 

[ 122 ] 



^ CHAPTER Xll S€» 



Le m 



his pocket when arrested, but said he had 
taken it from the engine to prevent its 
exploding and wrecking the locomotive. 
He said he had quarrelled with the engi- 
neer of Blackwings at first, but later they 
came to an understanding. He then gave 
the young runner some fatherly advice, and 
started to leave when he was arrested. 
Although he told his story in a straight- 
forward honest way, it was, upon the face 
of it, so inconsistent that even the loafers, 
changing feet again, pitied the prisoner and 
many of them actually left the room be- 
fore the judge could pronounce sentence. 
Moran was held, of course, and sent to jail 
without bail. He had hosts of friends, but 
somehow they all appeared to be busy that 
evening and only a few called to see him. 
One man, not of the Brotherhood, said to 
himself that night as he went to his comfort- 
able bed: "I will not forsake the company, 
neither will I forsake Dan Moran until he 
has been proven guilty." 

[ 123] 



CHAPTER THIRTEENTH 

Wini.E Dan Moran was bcin^^ examined 
in Jud^c Meyer's ill-smelling court in Chi- 
cago a coroner's jury was sitting on the body 
of the dead engineer at (ialesburg. Hun- 
dreds of people had been at the station and 
witnessed the arrival of the express train 
that came in with a dead engine, with snow 
on her headlight, and a dead engineer hang- 
ing out of the window. Hundreds of people 
could testify that this had happened, but 
none of them knew what had caused the 
death of the engine-driver. Medical experts 
who \\ere called in to view the body could 
find no marks of violence upon it and, in 
order to get out of a close place without 
embarrassment, agreed that the engineer 
had died of heart failure. This information, 
having been absorbed by the jury, they 
gave in a verdict to that effect. If the doc- 
tors ]i?id said, " He died for want of breath," 
the verdict would no doubt have agreed 
perfectly with what the doctors said. 

[ 124 ] 



( 



4 



^ CIlAl'TEU XIII h^ 



doc- 



After the train had arrived and the coroner 
was called and had taken the dead man 
from the engine, Harney (iuerin had wan 
dered into a small hotel near the station 
and en<^aged a room for the ni^dit. Being 
the only person on the engine at the time 
of the engineer's death, (iiierin was very 
naturally attracting the attention of the 
railway othcials, and calling ahout him, un- 
consciously, all the amateur detectives and 
newspaper reporters in the place. Fortu- 
nately for him, he was arrested, upon a 
warrant sworn out hy the station agent, 
and lodged in jail hefore the reporters got 
at him. Here he was visited by a local 
lawyer, for the company, and instructed to 
say nothing whatever about the death of 
Cowels. 

Upon the announcement of the verdict of 
the coroner's jury the prisoner was released, 
and returned to Chicago by the same train 
that bore the remains of the dead engineer. 
Guerin, whose heart was as big as his body 

[ 125 ] 



.;j 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^Oi^ 



J' 



'' ^4 



and as tender as a woman's, hastened to the 
home of his late companion and begged the 
grief-sick widow to allow him to be of some 
service to her. His appearance (she had 
known him by sight) excited lier greatly for 
she knew he had been arrested as the mur- 
derer of her husband. 

The new^s he brought of the verdict of the 
coroner's jury, which his very presence cor- 
roborated, quieted her and she began to ask 
how it had all happened. 
Guerin began cautiously to explain how the 
engineer had died, still remembering the 
lawyer's advice, but before he had gone a 
dozen words the poor woman wept so bit- 
terly that he was obliged to discontinue the 
sad story. 

Then came the corpse, borne by a few faith- 
ful friends — some of the Brothv'irhood and 
some of the railway company — who met 
thus on neutral ground and in the awful 
presence of death forgot their feud. Not an 
eye was dry while the little company stood 

[ 126 ] 



k 



h^ 



^ CHAPTER XIII S€^ 



ith- 
and 
Imet 
M 
an 
lood 



I 



about as the mother and boy bent over the 
coffin and poured out their grief, and the 
httle girl, not old enough to understand, but 
old enough to weep, clung and sobbed at 
her mother's side. 

The next day they came again and carried 
Cowels away and buried him in the new 
and thinly settled side of the grave-yard, 
where the lotj; were not too high, and where 
for nearly four years their second son, a 
baby boy, had slept alone. Another day 
came and the men who had mixed their 
tears at the engineers grave passed one 
another without a nod of recognition, and, 
figuratively speaking, stood again to their 
respective guns. 

One man had been greatly missed at the 
funeral, and the recollection that he had 
been greatly wronged by the dead man did 
not excuse him in the eyes of the widow. 
Dan Moran had been a brother, a father, 
everything to her husband and now when 
he was needed most, he came not at all. 

[ 127 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



t!' 



Death, she reasoned, should level all dif- 
ferences and he should forgive all and come 
to her and the children in their distress. At 
the end of a week this letter came : 

Count?/ Jail, 1888. 

My dear Mrs. Cowels : 

Every day since Georgv's death I have wanted to 
write yon to assure you of my innocence and of my 
sympathy Jbr you in this the hour of your sorrow. 
These are dreadful times. Be brave, and believe me 

Yourji'iend, 

Dan Moran. 

This letter, and the information it contained, 
was as great a surprise to IVIrs. Cowels as 
the news of Cowels's death had been to 
Moran. She began at the beginning and 
read it carefully over again, as women al- 
ways do. She determined to go at once to 
the jail. She was shrewd enough to p y 
*' Yes " when asked if the prisoner were ; - 
lated in any way to her, and was shortly in 
the presence of the alleged dynamiter. She 
did not find hhn walking the floor impa- 

[ X28 ] 



to 






I 



^ CHAPTER XITI ^ 

tiently, or lying idly on his back counting 
the cracks in the wall, but seated upon his 
narrow bed with a book resting on his 
cocked- up knees, for, unlike most railway 
employees, Moran was a great reader. 
" I 'm glad to see you, Mrs. Cowels," he 
said in his easy, quiet way, as he arose and 
took her hand, *' but sorry we are compelled 
to meet under such melancholy circum- 
stances." 

At sight of their old friend her woman's 
heart sent forth a fresh flood of tears, and 
for some moments they stood thus with 
heads bowed in silent grief. 
" I 'm sorry I can't offer you a chair," said 
the prisoner after she had raised her head 
and dried her eyes. " This only chair I 
have is wrecked, but if you don't mind the 
iron couch — " and then they sat down side 
by side and began to talk over the sad 
events of the past week. 
"Your presence here is a great surprise," 
began Moran, "and a great pleasure as 

[ 129 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



m 




well, for it leads me to hope that you be- 
lieve me innocent." 

" How could I believe you otherwise, for I 
do not know now of what you are accused, 
nor did I know, until I received your note, 
that yo'i were imprisoned." 
*' But the papers have been full of — " 
" Perhaps," she said interrupting him, " but 
I have not looked at a paper since I read 
of the death of George." 
Here she broke down again and sobbed so 
that the guard outside the cell turned his 
back; and the old engineer, growing ner- 
vous, 9 thing unusual for him, decided to 
scold her. 

"You mu"t brace up now, Nora, — Mrs. 
Cowels, and close your sand valve. You 've 
got a heavy load and a bad rail, and you 
must n't waste water in this way." 
" Oh I I shall never be able to do it, Dan, 
I shall die — I don't want to live and I shall 
die." 
You'll do nothi^ig of the sort — women 

[ 130] 



(i 



i ii 



^ CHAPTER XIII ^ 



to 



[an, 
lall 

len 



don't die so easy ; thousands of others, not 
half as brave as you are, have made the 
same run, hard as it seems, and have come 
in on time. There are few sorrov/s that 
time will not heal. Engine-men are born to 
die, and their wives to weep over them and 
live on — you will not die." 
*' But I — I shall die," sobbed the woman. 
Before he could reply the door opened and 
an elderly man, plainly, but comfortably 
dressed, stood before them. 
Moran gave his hand to the newcomer in 
silence and it was taken in silence; then, 
turning to *he veiled figure he said: "Mrs. 
Cowels, this is our master-mechanic." 
When the visitor had taken her hand and 
assured her of his sympathy, Moran asked 
them to be seated, and standii>g before 
them said : 

" Mrs. Cowels has just asked me why I am 
here, and I was at the point of replying 
when you came in. Now, with your permis- 
sion I will tell her, for I am afraid, my 

[ 131 ] 



■4'' ' 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



friend, that you did not quite understand me 
that day in court. I am charged with tres- 
passing upon the property of the Chica- 
go, Burlington, and Quincy Railroad Com- 
pany, inciting a riot (although there was no 
riot), attempting to blow up Blackwings 
and threatening to kill George Cowels." 
" Oh ! how could they say such dreadful 
things ? " said Mrs. Cowels, " and I suppose 
that you were not even on the company's 
ground I " 

" Oh yes, I was. I went to the engine, and 
quarrelled with George, just as the detec- 
tive said I did, but we only quarrelled for 
a moment because George could not know 
why I came." 

" But you did not threaten to kill George ? " 
said the woman excitedly. 
"No." 

" Tell me, Dan," said the master-mechanic, 
" had you that stick of dynamite when the 
detective arrested you ? Tell us truly, for 
you are talking to friends." 

[ 132 ] 






». . 



^ CHAPTER XIII h^ 



?" 



" There is something about the dynamite 
that I may not explain, but I will say this 
to you, my friends, that I went to the en- 
gine, not to kill Cowels, but to save his 
life, and I believe I did save it, for a few 
hours at least." 

Mrs. Cowels looked at the man, who still 
kept his seat on the narrow bed, as though 
she wished him to speak. 
" Dan," he began, " I don't believe you put 
that dynamite on the engine ; I have said 
so, and if I don't prove it I am to be dis- 
missed. That conclusion was reached to-day 
at a meeting of the directors of the road. 
I have been accused of sympathy with the 
strikers, it seems, before, and now, after the 
statement by the attorney that I used my 
influence to have you discharged after he 
had made out a clear case against you, I 
have been informed by the general manager 
that I will be expected to prove your inno- 
cence or look for another place. 
"I have been with the Burlington all my 

[ 133] 



:.m 



mf^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



life and don't want to leave them, particu- 
larly in this way, but it is on your account, 
more than on my own, that I have come 
here to-night to ask you to tell the whole 
truth about this matter and go from this 
place a free man." 

"To do that I must become an informer, 
the result of which would be to put another 
in my place. No, I can't do that ; I 've noth- 
ing to do at present and I might as well re- 
main here." 

" And let your old friend here be discharged, 
if not disgraced ? " asked Mrs. Cowels. 
"No, that must not be," said Moran, and 
he was then silent for a moment as if 
trying to work out a scheme to prevent 
that disaster to his much-loved superior. 
"You must let me think it over," he 
said, presently. "Let me think it over to- 
night." 

"And let the guilty one escape," Mrs. 
Cowels added. 
Some people seem to think," said Moran, 

[ 13* ] 



(( 



p 'H 



'AW 




^ CHAPTER XIU ^ 



with just H faint attempt at a smile. " that 
the guilty one is quite secure." 
"Don't talk nonsense, Dan," she said, "you 
know I believe you." ^ 

i' '^i"!,r''u'"y ^"""•^•" ^^ ■'*«id »s he ex- 
tended his hand to the official. 

" Yon know what I believe," said the visitor ; 
J.d now good-night-I shall see you again 

" I hope so," said Dan. " It is indeed very 
good of you to call, and of you, too," 
he added as he turned to his fairer visi- 
tor. " I shall not forget your kindness to 
me, and only hope that I may be if some 
help to you in some way, and do some- 
thing to show my appreciation of this visit 
and of your friendship. But," he added, 
gancmg about him, " one can't be of much 

thTs." ' " '■'"* "P •'* ^ ''"'l^ like 

" You can do me a great favor, even while 
m prison," she said. 
"Only say what it is and I shall try." 

[ 135 ] 



; i:l 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

*' Tell us who put the dynamite on IMack- 
wings." 

" I shall try," he said, " only let me have 
time to think what is best to do." 
" What is right is what is best to do," said 
Mrs. Cowels, holding out her hand — " Good- 
night." 

" Good-night," said the prisoner, " come 
again when you can, both of you." And 
the two visitors passed out into the clear, 
cold night, and when the prisoner had seen 
them disappear he turned to his little friend, 
the book. 



[ 136] 



Wte 



CHAPTER FOURTEENTH 



iood- 



JMIr. Scouping of The London Times 
would like to see you for a few minutes," 
said the jailor. 

" I don't care to see any newspaper man," 
said Moran, closing his book. 
" I knew that," said the jailor, " but this 
man is a personal friend of mine and in all 
the world there is not his equal in his chosen 
profession, and if you will see him just for a 
few minutes it will be a great favor to me. 
I feel confident, Dan, that he can be of ser- 
vice to you — to the public at least — will 
you see him ? " 

The jailor had been extremely kind to the 
engineer and when he put the matter as a 
personal request, Moran assented at once 
and Mr. Scouping was ushered in. He was 
a striking figure with a face that was rather 
remarkable. 

" Now, what are you thinking about ? " asked 
the visitor, as Moran held his hand and 
looked him full in the face. 

[ 137 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



4f 



f 
i 



** Oh ! " said the prisoner, motioning the re- 
porter to a chair which the jailor had just 
brought in, " I was thinking what a waste 
of physical strength it was for you to spend 
your time pushing a pencil over a sheet of 
paper." 

" Are you sure ? " 

" Quite sure. What were you thinking 
about ?" 

"The trial of the robbers who held up the 
Denver Limited at Thoro'igh-cut some 
eight or ten years ago. Yc lok like the 
man who gave one of them a black eye, 
and knocked him from the engine, brand- 
ing him so that the detectives could catch 
him." 

Moran smiled. He had been thinking on 
precisely the same subject, but, being mod- 
est, he did not care to open a discussion of 
a story of which he was the long-forgotten 
hero. " It strikes me," said Moran, " as rather 
extraordinary that we should both recall the 
scene at the same time." 

[ 138 ] 



^ 



^ CHAPTER XIV ^ 




unking 

up the 
D some 
like the 
ck eye, 
brand- 
L catch 

dug on 
g mod- 
ssion of 
>rgotten 
s rather 
call the 



" Not at all," said the reporter. " The very 
fact that one of us thought of it at the 
moment when our hands and eyes met 
would cause the other to remember." 
** Perhaps you reported the case for your 
paper, that we saw each other from day to 
day during the long trial, and that I remem- 
bered your face faintly, as you remembered 
mine. Wouldn't that be a better explana- 
tion ? " 

" No," said die journalist cheerfully. " I 
must decline to yield to your argument, 
and stick to my decision. What I want to 
talk to you about, Mr. Moran, is not your 
own case, save as it may please you, but 
about the mysterious death of Engineer 
Cowels." 

" I know less about that, perhaps, than any 
man Uving," said Moran frankly. 
*' But you know the fireman's story ? " 

No." 

Well, he claims that they were running 
at a maddening rate of speed, that he and 

[ 139 ] 



(i 



ti 









r' 



40? SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

the engineer had quarrelled as to their rel- 
ative positions in the estimation of the 
public in general, the strikers in particular. 
Cowels threw a hammer at the fireman, 
whereupon Guerin, as he claims, caught the 
man by the left arm and by the back of the 
neck and shoved his head out of the win- 
dow. The engineer resisted, but Guerin, 
who is something of an athlete, held him 
down and in a few moments the man col- 
lapsed." 

" How fast were they going ? " 
" Well, that is a question to be settled by 
experts. How fast will Blackwings go with 
four cars empty ? " 
" Ninety miles an hour." 
" How fast would she go, working * wide 
open in the first notch,' as you people say, 
down Zero Hill ? " 

" She would go in the ditch — she could 
hardly be expected to hold the rail for more 
than two minutes." 
" But she did hold it." 

[ 140 ] 



^ CHAPTER XIV 5^ 



wide 
say, 

jould 
lore 



" I don't believe it," said the old driver ; 
" but if she did, she must have made a 
hundred miles an hour, and in that case the 
mystery of Cowels's death is solved — he 
was drowned." 

" But his clothes were not wet, and he was 
still in the window when they reached 
Galesburg." 

" I do not mean," said Moran, " that he was 
drowned in the engine-tank, but in the cab 
window — in the air." 
" That sounds absurd." 
" Try it," said the prisoner. " Get aboard of 
Blackwings, strike the summit at Zero Hill 
with her lever hooked back and her throttle 
wide open, let a strong man hold your head 
out at the window, and if she hangs to the 
rail your successor will have the rare oppor- 
tunity of writing you up." 
" Do you mean that seriously ? " 
" I do. If what you tell me is true, there 
can be no shade of doubt as to the cause of 
Cowels's death." 

[ 141 ] 



MMI 



!'/'!• 






imji ! 



(( 



(( 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^^ 

" I believe," said the reporter, " that you 
predicted his death, or that the train would 
go in the ditch, did you not ? " 

No." 

I was not present at the examination, but 
it occurs to me that the man who claimed 
to be a detective, and who made the arrest, 
swore that you had made such a prediction." 
" Perhaps," said Moran. " The truth is when 
that fellow was giving his testimony I was 
ignorant of Cowels's death, upon whose evi- 
dence I hoped to prove that the fellow was 
lying wilfully, or that he had misunderstood 
me, and later, I was so shocked and sur- 
prised at the news of my old fireman's death 
that I forgot to rnake the proper explana- 
tion to the magistrate." 
"Why not make that explanation now ? 
These are trying times and men are not 
expected to be as guarded in their action as 
in times of peace." 

" If you hope to learn from me that I had 
anything to do with Cowels's death, or with 

[ 142 ] 



1 



^ CHAPTER XIV 5^ 



low 5 

not 
n as 



had 
with 



the placing of the dynamite upon the loco- 
motive, I am afraid you are wasting your 
time. Suppose you are an army officer, the 
possessor of a splendid horse — one that has 
carried you through hundreds of battles, 
but has finally been captured by the enemy. 
You are fighting to regain possession of the 
animal with the chances of success and fail- 
ure about equally divided, but you have an 
opportunity, during the battle, to slay this 
horse, thereby removing the remotest chance 
of ever having it for yourself again, to say 
nothing of the wickedness of the act, — would 
you do it ? " 
" I should say not." 

" And yet, I venture to say," said the pris- 
oner, "that there is no love for a living 
thing that is not human, to equal the love 
of a locomotive engineer for his engine. To 
say that he would wilfully and maliciously 
wreck and ruin the splendid steed of steel 
that had carried him safely through sun and 
storm is utterly absurd." 

[ 143 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



I 



"But what was it, Mr. Moran, that you 
said about the train going in the ditch ? " 
" I have a Uttle motto of my own," said 
the engineer, with his quiet smiie, "which 
makes the delay of an express train inex- 
cusable, and I was repeating it to George, 
as I had done scores of times before. It is 
that there are only two places for an ex- 
press train; she should either be on time 
or in the ditch. It may have been rather 
reckless advice to a new runner, but I was 
feeling a mite reckless myself; but, above 
all the grief and disappointments (for the 
disgrace of my fireman's downfall was in a 
measure mine) arose the desire that i31ack- 
wings should not be disgraced; such is the 
love of the engineer for his engine." 
The old engineer had shown much feeling, 
more than was usual for him to display, 
while talking about his engine, and the re- 
porter was impressed very favorably. " This 
has been most interesting to me," said the 
journalist; "and now I must leave you to 

[ 144 ] 



i.i 



^ CHAPTER XIV S€^ 



your book, or to your bed," and then the 
two men shook hands again and parted. 



It was almost midnight when a closed car- 
riage stopped at the general office of the 
Burlington Company, and the man who 
had been representing T'he London Times 
stepped out. 

The Philosopher, who was still on duty, 
touched his cap and led the visitor to the 
private office of the general manager. 
"By Jove, Watchem," said the railway 
man, advancing to meet his visitor, " I had 
nearly given you up — what success ? " 
" Well," said the great detective, removing 
his heavy coat, *' I have had a talk with 
Moran. Why, I know that fellow ; he is the 
hero of the celebrated Thorough-cut train 
robbery, and he ought to be wearing a medal 
instead of irons." 

" What ! for attempting to blow up an en- 
gine ? " asked the general manager. 
" He never did it," said the dark man posi- 

[ 145 ] 



li 



^ ■> 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

tively. " He may know who did do it, but 
he will not tell, and he ought to be dis- 
charged." 

" He will never be until he is proved inno- 
cent," said the railroad man. 
" One of the conditions," began the detec- 
tive deliberately, " upon which I took charge 
of this business was that I should have ab- 
solute control of all criminal matters and I 
am going to ask you to instruct the prose- 
cuting attorney's office to bring this man 
before Judge Meyer Lo-morrow morning 
and ask that he be discharged." 
" The prosecuting attorney will never con- 
sent," said the general manager. " He be- 
lieves the man guilty." 
" And what do I care for his opinion or his 
prejudice ? What does it matter to th aver- 
age attorney whether he convicts or acquits, 
so long as his side wins ? Before we proceed 
further with this discussion, I want it dis- 
tinctly understood that Dan Moran shall be 
released at once. The only spark of pleasure 

[ 146 ] 



^ CHAPTER XIV 5^ 

that comes into the \ife of an honest detec- 
tive, to reUeve the endless monotony of 
punishing the wicked, is the pleasure of 
freeing those wrongfully accused. Dan Mo- 
ran is innocent ; release him and I will be 
personally responsible for him and will agree 
to produce him within twenty-four hours at 
any time when he may be wanted." 
The general manager was still inclined to 
hold his ground, but upon being assured 
that the Watchem detective agency would 
throw the whole business over unless the 
demands of the chief were acceded to, he 
yielded, and after a brief conference the two 
men descended, the Philosopher closed the 
offices and went his way. 



;eed 

dis- 

[Ibe 



jure 



[147 ] 



4.1 



1 ■, I 
'I 



7 

1 
l 


i 
1 

\ 

\ 

t 

t 

t 


1 



CHAPTER FIFTEENTH 

[Scores of criminals, deputies and strikers 
were rounded up for a hearing before Judge 
Meyer. So great was the crowd of defend- 
ants that little room was left for the curi- 
ous. The first man called was a laborer- a 
freight handler, whose occupation had gone 
when the company ceased to handle freight. 
The charge against him was a pecuhar one. 
His neighbor, a driver for one of the brew- 
eries, owned a cow, which, although she 
gave an abundance of milk at night, had 
ceased almost entirely to produce at the 
morning milking. The German continued 
to feed her and she waxed fat, but there 
was no improvement, and finally it was 
decided that the cow should be watched. 
About four A. M. on the following morning 
a small man came and leaned a ladder 
against the high fence between the driver's 
back-yard, and that of the laborer. Then the 
small man climbed to the top of the fence, 
balanced himself carefully, hauled the ladder 

[ 148 ] 






^ CHAPTER XV Sfr 



up and slid it down in the Dutchman's lot. 
All this was suspicious, but what the driver 
wanted was positive proof, so he choked his 
dog and remained quiet until the man had 
milked the cow and started for the fence. 
Now the bull-dog, being freed from his mas- 
ter's grasp, coupled into the climber's caboose 
and hauled him back down the ladder. It 
was found upon examination that a rubber 
hot- water bag, well filled with warm milk, 
was dangling from a strap that encircled the 
man's shoulders, shot-pouch fashion. 
Upon being charged, the man pleaded 
guilty. At first, he said, he had only taken 
enough milk for the baby, who had been 
without milk for thirty-six hours. The 
thought of stealing had not entered his 
mind until near morning of the second 
night of the baby's fast. They had been 
up with the starving child aU night, and 
just before day he had gone into the back- 
yard to get some fuel to build a fire, when 
he heard his neighbor's cow tramping about 

[ 149 ] 



i i 






: ' 




II 



11 



■'. I 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT '^ 

in the barn lot, and instantly it occurred to 
him that there was milk for the baby ; that 
if he ^ould procure only a teacupful, it 
might save the child's life. He secured a 
ladder and went over the fence, but being 
dreadfully afraid he had taken barely enough 
milk to keep the baby during the day and 
that night they were obliged to walk the 
floor again. It was only a little past mid- 
night when he went over the fence for the 
second time. Upon this occasion he took 
more milk, so that he was not obliged to 
return on the following night, but another 
day brought the same condition of affairs 
and over the fence he went, and he contin- 
ued to go every night, and the baby began 
to thrive as it had not done in all its life. 
Finally the food supply began to dwindle, 
he was idle, and his wife was unable to do 
hard work; they had other small children 
who now began to cry for milk, and the 
father's heart ached for them and he went 
over the fence one night prepared to bring 

[ 150 ] 



ft 

if 




^ CHAPTER XV h^ 



airs 
itin- 
jgan 

idle, 
do 
iren 
the 
^ent 
ring 



all he could get. That day all the children 
had milk, but it was soon gone and then 
came the friendly night and the perform- 
ance at the back fence was repeated. 
Emboldened by success the man had come 
to regard it as a part of his daily or nightly 
duty to milk his neighbor's cow, but alas I 
for the wrong-doer there comes a day of 
reckoning, and it had come at last to the 
freight handler. The freight agent who was 
called as a witness testified as to the good 
character of the man previously, but he was 
a thief. Put to the* test it had been proven 
that he would steal from his neighbor sim- 
ply to keep his baby from starving, so he 
went to the work-house, his family went to 
the poor-house, and the strike went on. 
" If you were to ask who is responsible for 
this strike," said the philosophic tramp to 
Patsy, "which has left in its wake only 
waste, want, misery, and even murder, the 
strikers would answer * the company ' ; the 
company, * the strikers ' ; and if Congress 

[ 151 ] 



\ 



MM 



I 



I 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

came in a private car to investigate, the 
men on either side would hide behind one 
another, like cattle in a storm, and the 
guilty would escape. The law intends to 
punish, but the law finds it so hard to lo- 
cate the real criminals in a great soulless 
corporation, or in a conglomeration of or- 
ganizations whose aggregate membership 
reaches into the hundreds of thousands, 
that the blind goddess grows weary, grop- 
ing in the dark, and finally falls asleep with 
the cry of starving children still ringing in 
her ears." 

Now an officer brought engineer Dan Mo- 
ran, the alleged dynamiter, into court for 
a special hearing. He wore no manacles, 
but stood erec in the awful presence of the 
judge, unfettered and unafraid. 
Mr. Alexander, the lawyer for the strikers, 
having had a hint from Billy Watchem, the 
detective, asked that the prisoner be dis- 
charged, but the young man who had been 
sent down from the office of the prosecuting 

[ 152 ] 



^ CHAl'TEIl XV' S^ 



Mo- 

for 

Lcles, 
the 

[kers, 
the 
dis- 
Ibeen 
itmg 



attorney, being belilnd the procession, pro- 
tested vigorously. In the niidst of a burning 
argument, in wliich the old engineer was 
unmercifully abused, the youthful attorney 
was interrupted to receive a message from 
the general manager of the Ihirlington 
route. Pausing only long enough to read 
the signature, the orator continued to pour 
his argument into the court until a second 
messenger arrived with a note from his 
chief. It was brief and he read it : *' I^et go ; 
the house is falling in on you " ; and he let 
go. It was a long, hard fall, so he thought he 
would drop a little at a time. The court was 
surprised to see the attorney stop short in 
what he doubtless considered the effort of his 
life, and ask that the prisoner be released on 
bail. Now the prosecuting attorney glanced 
at Mr. Alexander, but that gentleman was 
looking the other way. *' Does that proposi- 
tion meet with the approval of the eminent 
counsel on the other side ? " 
" No," said the other side. 

[ 1S3 ] 



'I 



IM 



' ! 



..J.li.UJ., 



■maHl 



I 



^SNOW ON TiiK IIKADT.IGFITSI^ 

" Then will you tnke the trouble to nmke 
your wishes known to the eourt ? " 
*' No, you will do that for me," said the 
eminent counsel, with a coolness that was ex- 
asperatini^. " It would be unsafe to shut off 
such a flow of elo(juence all at once. u\sk the 
court, please, to discharge the prisoner." 
*' Never," said the young lawyer, growing 
red to the roots of his perfectly parted hair. 
The counsel for the defence reached over 
the table and Hipped the last message to- 
ward the lawyer, at the same time advising 
the young man to read it again. Then the 
young man cougheil, the old lawyer laughed, 
the judge fidgeted on his bench, but he 
caught the prayer of the youthful attorney, 
it was answered, and Dan JMoran received 
his freedom. 

" Do you observe how the law operates ? " 
asked the Philosopher, who had been the 
bearer of the message from the general 
manager, of Patsy Daly as they were leav- 
ing the court. 

[ 15-1 ] 



^ C lIAPTKll XV ^ 



ived 

les? 

the 
iieral 
leav- 



*' I must confess," said Patsy, '* that I ain 
utterly unable to uiiderstaiid these things. 
Here is a lawyer abusiri^ a luau — an honest 
man at that — unmercifully, and all of a sud- 
den he asks the court to discharge the pris- 
oner. It's beyond me." 

" But the side play I Did n't you get on to 
the message that blackguard received ? He 
had a hunch from the prosecuting attorney 
who had been hunched by the general man- 
ager, who, as I happened to know, was se- 
verely, but very successfully hunched by 
liilly Wiicchem, to the effect that this man 
was innocent and nuist be released. It was 
the shadow-hand of old ' Never Sleep,' that 
did the business and set an innocent man 
free, and hereafter, when I cuss a copper 
I '11 say a little prayer for this man whose 
good deeds are all done in the dark, and 
therefore covered up." 

" Thank you," said l*atsy, " I should never 
have been able to work it out myself." 
"Well, it is not all worked out yet," said 

[ 155 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



the Philosopher, "and will not be until we 
come up for a final hearing, in a court that 
is infalhble and unfoolable ; and what a lot 
of suqirises are in store for some people. It 
is not good to judge, and yet I can't help 
picturing it all to myself. I see a sleek old 
sinner, who has gone through this life per- 
fectly satisfied with himself, edging his way 
in and sidling over where the sheep are. 
Then in comes this poor devil who went to 
jail this morning — that was his first trip, 
but the road is easy when you have been 
over it once — and he, having been herding, 
all along with the goats, naturally wanders 
over that way. Then at the last moment I 
see the Good Shepherd shooing the sleek 
old buck over where the goats are and 
bringing the milk-thief back with him, and 
I see the look of surprise on the old gentle- 
man's face as he drops down the 'goat- 
chute.' 



1 )» 



[ 156 ] 



M 



and 

and 

mtle- 

foat- 



CHAPTER SIXTEENTH 

An time people grew tired of talking and 
reading abont the strike, and more than one 
man wished it might end. The strikers 
wished it too, for hnndreds of them were 
at the point of starvation. The police courts 
were constantly crowded, and often over- 
flowed and filled the morgue. Misery, dis- 
appointment, want, and hunger made men 
commit crimes the very thought of which 
would have caused them to shudder a year 
ago. One day a desolate looking striker was 
warming his feet in a cheap saloon when a 
well-dressed stranger came and sat near 
him and asked the cause of his melancholia. 
" I 'm a striker," said the man ; " and I have 
had no breakfast. More than that, my wife 
is hungry at home and she is sick, too. She 's 
been sick ever since we buried the baby, 
three weeks ago. All day yesterday I begged 
fo work, but there was nothing for me to 
do. Fo-day I have begged for money to buy 
medicine and food for her, but I have re- 

[ 157 ] 



npl 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

ceived nothing, and now my only hope is 
that she may be dead when I go home to- 
night, empty-handed and hungry." 
The stranger drew his chair yet nearer to 
that of the miserable man and asked in a 
low tone why he did not steal. 
" I don't know how," said the striker, look- 
ing his questioner in the face. " I have never 
stolen anything and I should be caught at 
my first attempt. If not, it would only be 
a question of time, and if I must become a 
thief to live we might as well all die and 
liave done with it. It '11 be easier anyway 
after she 's gone, and that won't be long ; 
she don't want to live. Away in the dead 
of night she wakes me praying for death. 
And she used to be about the happiest 
woman in the world, and one of the best, 
but when a mother sits and sees her baby 
starve and die, it is apt to harden her heart 
against the people who have been the cause 
of it all. I think she has almost ceased to 
care fo^* me, for of course she blames me 

[ 158 ] 



^ CHAPTER XVI S^ 



'I 



for going out with the strikers, but how 's 
a man to know what to do ? If I could 
raise the price I think I 'd take a couple of 
doses of poison home with me and put an 
end to our misery. She 'd take it in a holy 
minute." 

" Don't do that," said the stranger, dabbing 
a silk handkerchief to his eyes, one after the 
other. " And don't steal, for if you do once 
you will steal again, and by and by you '11 
get bolder and do worse. I 've heard men 
tell how they had begun by lifting a dicer 
in front of a clothing store, or steahng a 
loaf of bread, and ended by committing 
murder. They can't break this way always 
— brace up." 

The switchman went over to the bar where 
a couple of non-union men were shaking 
dice for the drinks. He recognized one of 
them as the man who had taken his place 
in the yards, but he scarcely blamed him 
now. Perhaps the fellow had been hungry, 
and the striker knew too well what that 

[ 159 ] 



.MM 



■"■gggHia 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



!l 



meant. Presently, the switchman went back 
to the stove and began to button his thin 
coat up about his throi*t. 
" I m dead broke myself," said the well- 
dressed stranger, " but I 'm going to help 
you if you 11 let me." 
As the striker stared at the stranger the 
man took off a sixty-dollar overcoat and 
hung it over the switchman's arm. "Take 
it," he said, " it 's bran new ; I just got it 
from the tailor this morning. Go out and 
sell it and bring the money to me and I '11 
help you." 

When the striker had been gone a quarter 
of an hour the well-dressed man strolled up 
to the bar and ordered a cocktail. Fifteen 
minutes later he took another drink and 
went out in front of the saloon. It was 
cold outside and after looking anxiously 
up and down the street the philanthropist 
reentered the beer-shop and warmed him- 
self by the big stove. At the end of an 
hour he ordered another dose of nerve food 

[ 160 ] 






^ CHAPTER XVI 5fr 



and sat down to think. It began to dawn 
upon him that he had been *' had," as the 
Enghsh say. Perhaps this fellow was an 
impostor, a professional crook from New 
York, and he would sell the overcoat and 
have riotous pastime upon the proceeds. 
" The wife and baby story was a rank fake 
— I 'm a marine," said the well-dressed man 
taking another drink. It seemed to him 
that the task of helping the needy was a 
thankless one, and he wished he had the 
overcoat back again. He had been waiting 
nearly two hours when the switchman 
came in. *' I had a hard time finding a pur- 
chaser," explained the striker, "and finally 
when I did sell it I could only get twelve 
dollars and they made me give my name 
and tell how I came to have such a coat. 
I suppose they thought I had stolen it and 
I dare say I looked guilty for it is so em- 
barrassing to try to sell something that 
really doesn't belong to you, and to feel 
yourself suspected of having stolen it." 

[161 ] 



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^ SNOAV ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

" And you told them that a gentleman had 
given the coat to you to sell because he was 
sorry for you ? " 

" Yes, I gave them a description of you and 
told them the place." 

" That was right," said the gentleman, glan- 
cing toward the door. " Here are two dol- 
lars ; come back here to-morrow and I '11 
have something more for you — good-by." 
And the philanthropist passed out by a side 
door which opened on an alley. 
The striker gripped the two-dollar bill hard 
in his hand and started for the front door. 
All thought of hunger had left him now, 
and he was thinking only of his starving 
wife, and wondering what would be best 
for her to eat. Two or three men in citizens' 
dress, accompanied by a policeman, were 
coming in jrst as he was going out, but he 
was looking at the money and did not no- 
tice them. " There goes the thief," said one 
of the men, and an officer laid a heavy hand 
on the striker's shoulder. The man looked 

[ 162] 



^ CHAPTER XVI 50^ 



lest 
[ens' 
ere 
he 
no- 
lone 
and 
ked 



up into the officers face with amazement, 
and asked what the matter v/as. 
"Did you sell an overcoat to tliis gentle- 
man a httle while ago ? " asked the police- 
man. 

"Yes," said the striker glancing down at 
the two dollars he still held in his hand. 
" Und yer sthold dot coats fum mine vindo'," 
said a stout man shoving his fist under the 
switchman's nose. 

"A gentleman gave me the coat in this 
saloon," urged the striker. "Why, he was 
here a moment ago." 

" Ah I dot 's too tin," laughed the tailor, 
"tak' 'im avay, Meester Bleasman, tak' 'im 
avay," and the miserable man was hurried 
away to prison. 

That night while the switchman sat in a 
dark cell his young wife lay dying of cold 
and hunger in a fireless room, and when an 
enterprising detective came to search the 
house for stolen goods on the following 
morning, he found her there stiff and cold. 

[ 163] 



I 



nu 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Of course no one was to blame in particu- 
lar, unless it wr.s the well-dressed gentleman 
who had "helped" the striker, for no one, 
in particular, was responsible for the strike. 
It may have been the company and it may 
have been the brotherhood, or both, but you 
can't put a railroad company or a brother- 
hood in jail. 



i 



I 



[ 164 ] 



CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH 



JxIr. VV^v^CHEM's pluiiiber, as might have 
been expected, had the good t'lste to leave 
his modest lodgings after the downfall and 
death of his landlord, and now the widow 
was left alone with her two children. She 
was a gentle soul, who had always been 
esteemed by her neighbors, but since her 
husband's desertion to the enemy, she had 
been shamefully slighted. One would have 
thought that her present helpless condition 
would have shielded her from such slights, 
but it did not. 

A few dollars still remained from the last 
reqt money received from the plumber, who 
always paid in advance, and upon this she 
lived for a week or more after the death of 
her husband. She wondered how long it 
would be before the Benevolent Building 
Association would sell the house, and then 
how long before they would put her and the 
children into the street. Upon visiting the 
undertaker she was surprised to learn that 

[ 165 ] 



<¥ 

?« 



M 



M 



■ ! 5 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADIJGHT ^ 

all the expenses of her husband's funeral 
had been paid. It must liave been done by 
the company, since, having left the Brother- 
hood, her husband could have had no claim 
upon the organization. Well, she was glad 
it was paid, for the road that led into the 
future was rough and uncertain. 
One evening, when the baby had gone to 
sleep and the lone widow was striving to 
entertain little Bennie, and at the same 
time to hide her tears from him, for he 
had been asking strange questions about 
his father's death, the bell rang and two of 
the neighbors came in. They were striking 
firemen and she knew them well. One of 
the men handed her a large envelope with 
an enormous seal upon it. She opened the 
letter and found a note addressed to her and 
read it : 

Dear Mrs. Cowels : 

Although your husband had deseHed us, he had not 
been expelled^ but was still a member in good standing 
at the moment of his death, and therefore legally en- 

[ 166 ] 



t! 



^ CHAPTER XVII ^ 



not 

ling 

en- 



titled to the benefits of' the order. For your .sake I am 
gliul that it is so, and I take pleasure in handing you 
a ehequefor two thousand dollars^ the amount of his 
inmiraiwe, less the aviount paid by the local lodge for 
funeral expenses. 

Very tndy ymirs, 

EUGKNK V. DkBSON, 

Grand Secretary aiul Treasurer. 

She thanked them as well as she could and 
the men tried to say it was all right, but 
they were awkward and embarrassed and 
after a few commonplace remarks with- 
drew. 

Mrs. Cowels sat for a long while looking 
at the cheque, turning it over and reading 
the figures aloud to Bennie and explaining 
to him what an enormous amount of money 
it was. And what a load had thus been 
lifted from the slender shoidders of this 
lone woman ! Now she could pay off the 
mortgage and have nearly fourteen hundred 
dollars left. It seemed to her that that 
amount ought to keep them almost for a 

[ 167 ] 






^ 



i 



: 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 

lifetime. This relief, coming so unexpect- 
edly, had made her forget for the moment 
her great sorrow. She even smiled when 
telling Bennie how very rich they were, 
but when the boy looked up, with tears 
swimming in his big, blue eyes, and said, 
through the sobs that almost choked him : 
" But I 'd ruther have papa back again," it 
pierced her heart and made the old wound 
blet ^ anew. 

Patsy Daly and his friend, the Philosopher, 
were at that moment approaching the 
Cowels's house where they lodged — they 
were room-mates now. They had seen the 
two men leaving the house, and having 
caught sight of the lonely woman and her 
child, stood looking beneath the window 
shade upon the pathetic scene. When they 
saw the official envelope, with the big, red 
seal, they readily guessed the errand of the 
men, for they knew the rules and ways of 
the Brotherhood, and that the dead engi- 
neer s family was entitled to the insurance 

[ 168 ] 



^ CHAPTER XVJI 5^ 



upon his life. They saw the Httle mother 
smihng upon her boy, saw him turn a tear- 
fill face up to hers, and tlie chanfre that 
came, and the look of anguish upon tl,e un- 
happy woman's face touched them deeply. 
" O God I " said the Philosopher, laying a 
hand upon the shoulder of his friend, " if 
It be true that we, ..'ho are so wicked, must 
suffer for our sins, i is pleasant to feel that 
these martyrs-tne milhons of mothers 
whose hearts are torn in this world— will 
have a pleasant place in the v/orld to come " 



[ 169 ] 



\h 



^^^^WWl<Wb:w^^^^yff»*'aMft ^i M aW ij9iW».iWfr,i 






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CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH 



k 



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li 












M-ii. Watchem, chief of the famous 
Watchem detective agency, was pacing his 
private office. He was a heavy man with 
heavy features and a heavy, dark mustache, 
at which he tugged vigorously as he walked. 
In his left hand he carried a dozen or more 
sheets of closely written note paper. Pres- 
ently the door opened, and a small man, 
slightly stooped, entered and removed his 
hat. 

" Is this your report, sir ? " asked the chief. 
The man said it was. 

" And can you substantiate these charges ? 
IMind you, if an innocent man suffers I shall 
hold you accountable, do you understand ? " 
" I understand, and I. am willing to swear to 
that statement." 

" Have the men been arrested ? " 
**They have, and are now on their way to 
Chicago." 

"They will probably be arraigned to-mor- 
row morning," observed the great detective. 

[ 170 ] 



^ CHAPTER XVIII ^ 



IV to 



" See that your witnesses are on hand — you 
may go now." 

When the small man had stolen softly out, 
down the stair and into the street, the chief 
detective descended, entered a closed car- 
riage and was driven to his home. 
It was now past midnight, and all over the 
city printers were setting up the story of 
the arrest of a number of dynamiters on a 
Burlington train. The wires were singing it 
across the country, and cables w^ere carrying 
to the ends of the earth the story of the 
disgrace and downfall of the Brotherhood. 
The headquarters of the strikers were 
crowded with a host of anxious men, un- 
willing to believe that their brothers had 
been guilty of so dastardly a crime. 
On the following morning, when the daily 
press had announced the arrest of the al- 
leged dynamiters, the city was thrown into 
a fever of excitement, and thousands who 
had been in sympathy with the men now 
openly denounced them, and by so doing 

[ 171 ] 



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^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

gave aid and encouragement to the com- 
pany. The most conservative papers now 
condemned the strikers, while the editor of 
The Chicago Times dipped his quill still 
deeper into the gallstand. 
Following close upon the heels of the arrest 
of these strikers came the sensational arrest 
of Mr. Hogan, director general of the 
strike, charged with conspiracy. The pri- 
vate secretaries of the strike committee 
turned out to have been all along in the 
employ of the Watchem detective agency, 
but the charges of cc ; ;.i'acy were never 
pushed. The men who were charged with 
having and using dynamite, however, were 
less fortunate. Two were imprisoned, one 
was fined, the others proved to be detec- 
tives, and of course were released. 
The effect of all this was very satisfactory 
to the company, and disheartening to the 
men. 

The daily meetings in the hall in town were 
less crowded, and the speeches of the most 

[ 172 ] 






I? 



il 

If 

If 



^ CHAPTER XVIII 5fr 



itory 
the 



radical and optimistic members of the fra- 
ternity failed to create the old-time enthu- 
siasm. The suits worn by the strikers were 
becoming shiny, and the suffering in hun- 
dreds of homes was enougli to cause men 
to forget the commandments. The way cars 
and cabs of out-going freight trains were 
crowded with old Burlington men starting 
out to find work on other roads. They had 
been losing heart for some time, and now 
the shame and disgrace caused by the con- 
viction of the dynamiters made them long 
to be away ; to have a place in the world 
where they might be allowed to win an 
honest living, and forget the long struggle 
of which they had grown weary. Unlike the 
Philosopher, they were always sure of a 
ride, but they found that nearly all the 
roads in the country had all the men they 
needed to handle tlieir trains. The very fact 
that a man had once been a Burlington en- 
gineer was a sufficient recommendation, and 
the fact that he had been a striker seems 

[ 173 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEA OUGHT ^ 



1 ( 




not to have injured him in the estimation 
of railway officials generally, but the main 
trouble was that there was no place for 
him. 

While the boycot on Burlington ears had 
kept all roads, not operating imder a re- 
ceiver, from handling Burhngton business, 
it made it all the easier for the company to 
handle the little traffic that came to them 
and gave the road the appearance of run- 
ning Lrain .. All tliis was discouraging to the 
men, and at last, havhig exhausted all fair 
means, and some that were unfair, the strike 
was declared off. While the company re- 
fused to the last to accept anything short 
of unconditional surrender it is pleasing to 
be able to record here. that the moment the 
men gave in the officials did all they could, 
consistent with the policy of the company 
and past events, to lessen the pain of defeat. 
The following letter, whicli was sent by the 
president to the vice-president and general 
manager, ^-eminds us of the gentleness of 

[ 174] 



^ CHAPTER XVIII ^ 



Grant, in receiving the surrender of a brave 
and noble general : 

Boston, Jan. 3, 1889. 

To , Vice-President C. B. 4* Q. Railroad, 

Chicago. 

The company will not follow up, black-list, or in any 
manner attempt to proscribe those who zcere concerned 
in the strike, hut on the contrary, will cheerfully give 
to all who have not been gniliy if violence, or other 
improper conduct, letters if introduction, showing 
their record in our service, and will in all proper ways 
assist them injinding employment. 

In making this letter known to the public 
the general manager said : 
" It is important that no question should 
arise as to the good faith of the comjjany, 
and it is our desire and intention that there 
should be no opportunity for such ques- 
tion." 

He even offered to shield, as far as was con- 
sistent, tiiose who, in the heat of the fight, 
had committed unlawful acts. He was a 

[ 175 ] 











^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h» 

generous conqueror. It was humane, and 
manly, and noble in him to help those un- 
fortunate ones who were now in so much 
need of help, and to protect them from the 
persecution of the few little-souled officials 
who were loath to stop fighting. It is all the 
more creditable because he was not bound 
to do it. He wrote : " While men who have 
been guilty of improper conduct during the 
late strike cannot be re-employed, and while 
we cannot give letters to them, no officer or 
employee should contiiuie the animosities of 
the conflict after it is over, or interfere to 
prevent the employment of such men else- 
where." 






t '703 



CHAPTER NINETEENTH 



At last the agony was over — at least the 
agony of suspense. The poor misguided men 
knew now that all hope had died. They 
would be re-employed when the company 
needed them, but it was January — the dull- 
est month in the year. Every railroad in the 
West was laying men off. Hundieds of the 
new men were standing in line waiting for 
business to pick up, and this line must be 
exhausted before any of the old employees 
could be taken back. The management con- 
sidered that the first duty of the company 
was to the men who had helped to win the 
strike. There was no disposition on the part 
of the officials to make it harder for the 
vanquished army. They admired the loyalty 
and self-sacrifice, though deploring the judg- 
ment of Uio mlNin»uingcd men ; but they 
were only officers in an opposing army, and 
so fought the fight for the Interest they rep- 
resented, and for the priluiplcH ill which 
they believed. 

[ 177 ] 



-JSW-^Wi 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h» 

Nothing in tlie history of the strike shows 
more conclusively that the men were out- 
generalled than the manner in which the 
company handled the press. It is not to be 
supposed for a moment that the daily papers 
of Chicago, with possibly one exception, wiU- 
fuUy misrepresented the men, but the story 
of the strikers was never told. Mr. Paul, the 
accomplished "bureau of information," stood 
faithfully at the 'phone and saw that the 
public received no news that would em- 
barrass the company or encoiu-age the men. 
The cold, tired reporter found a warm wel- 
come and an easy chair in Mr. Paul's private 
office, and while he smoked a fragrant cigar 
the stenographer brought in the " news " all 
neatly type-written and ready for tlie printer. 
Mr. Paul was a sunny soul, who, in the pres- 
ence of the reporter laughed the seemingly 
happy laugh of the actor-man, and when 
alone sighed, suffered and swore as other 
men did. Mr. Paul was a genius. By his 
careful manipulation of the press the public 

[ 178 ] 



^ CHAPTER XIX 50» 



was in time persuaded that the only ques- 
tion was whether the company, who owned 
the road, should run it, or whether the broth- 
erhoods, who did not own it, should run it 
for them. Every statement given out by the 
company was printed and accepted, gener- 
ally, as the whole thing, while only two 
papers in all the town pretended to print 
the reports issued by the strikers. The oth- 
ers cut them and doctored them so that 
they lost their point. But all is fair in love 
and war, and this was war — war to the knife 
and the knife to the hilt — so Mr. Paul 
should not be hated but admired, even by 
his foes. He was a brilliant strategist. Many 
there are who argue to this day that Mr. 
Paul won the strike for the company, but 
Mr. Paul says Watchem, the detective, did 
it. At all events they each earned the death- 
less hatred of the strikers. But, leaving this 
question open, the fact remains that the 
general in command — the now dead hero 
of that fierce fight — deserves a monument 

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^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 

at the expense of American railroads, if, as 
Amej ican railroad managers argue, that war 
was an holy war. 

There had never been a moment when the 
management feared defeat. They had met 
and measured tli£..^ajinateur officials who 
were placed in command of the strikers. 
They Were but children in the hands of 
the big brainy meh who were handling the 
company's business. They could fire a loco- 
motive, "ride a fly," or make time on the 
tick of the clock. They could awe a con- 
vention of car-hands or thrill an audience 
at a union meeting, but they had not the 
experience, or mental equipment to cope 
with the diplomatic officials who stood for 
the company. Their heads had been turned 
by the magnitude of their position. They 
established themselves at a grand hotel 
where only high-salaried railroad officials 
could afford to live. They surrounded them- 
selves with a luxury thit would have been 
counted extravagant by the minister of 

[ 180 ] 



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^ 



BF1 



^ CHAPTER XIX ^ 



many a foreign land. They dissipated the 
strength of the Brotherhood and wasted 
their substance in high living. They had 
gotten into clothes that did not fit them, 
and, saddest of all, they did not know it. 
The good gray chief of the Brotherhood, 
who was perfectly at home in the office 
of a president or a general manager, who 
kne\7 how to meet and talk with a reporter, 
who was at ease either in overalls or even- 
ing dress, was kept in the background. He 
would sell out to the company, tlie deep- 
lunged leaders said. He could not be 
trusted, and so from the men directly in- 
terested in the fight the strikers chose a 
leader, and he led them to inglorious de- 
feat ; though defeat was inevitable. 
At last, made desperate by the shadow of 
coming events, this man, so the officials say, 
issued a circular advising old employees to 
return to work and \/hen out on the road 
to disable and destroy the company's loco- 
motives, abandoning them where they were 

[ 181 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



II 



wrecked and ruined. The man accused of 
this crime declared that the circular was a 
forgery, committed hy his secretary, who 
was a detective. But that the circular went 
out properly signed and sealed is beyond 
dispute, and in reply to it there came pro- 
tests from hundreds of honest engine-drivers 
all up and down the land. The chief of a 
local division came to Chicago v^ith a copy 
of the circular and protested so vigorously 
that he was expelled from the Brotherhood, 
to the Brotherhood's disgrace. 
Smarting under what he deemed a great 
wrong, he gave the letter into the hands of 
the officials, and now whenever he secures a 
position the road that employs him is forced 
to let him go again or. have a strike. He is 
an outcast — a vagabond, so far as the union 
is concerned. Ah, the scars of that conflict 
are deep in the souls of men. The blight of 
it has shadowed hundreds of happy homes, 
and ruined many a useful life. 
With thijs " sal-soda " circular in their pos- 

[ 182 ] 



i 



li fil 



it 



^ CHArTER XIX SO^ 



pos- 



session the managers caused the arrest of its 
author, charging him with conspiracy — a 
serious offense in Illinois. 
A sunny-faced man, with big, soulful blue 
eyes and a blond mustache, had been living 
on the same floor occupied by the strike 
committee. He had conceived a great inter- 
est in the struggle. For a man of wealth 
and culture he showed a remarkable sym- 
pathy for the strikers, and so won the heart 
and confidence of the striker-in-chief. It was 
perfectly natural, then, that in the excite- 
ment incidental to the arrest, the accused 
should rush into the apartments of the sym- 
pathetic stranger and thrust into his keep- 
ing an armful of letters and papers. 
As the officers of the law led the fallen hero 
away the blond man selected a number of 
letters and papers from the bundle, aban- 
doned the balance and strolled fortli. For 
weeks, months, he had been planning the 
capture of some of these letters, and now 
they had aU come to him as suddenly as 

[ 183 ] 



■S 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 






fame comes to a man who sinks a ship under 
the enemy's guns. 

This blond man was a detective. His vic- 
tim was a child. 

Yes, the great struggle that had caused so 
much misery and cost so many millions was 
at an end, but it was worth to labor and 
capital all it had cost. The lesson has lasted 
ten years, and will last ten more. 
It had been a long, bitter fight in which 
even the victorious had lost. They had lost 
at least five million dollars in wrecked and 
ruined rolling stock, bridges and buildings. 
The loss in net earnings alone was nearly 
five millions in the first five months of the 
strike that lasted nearly a year. It would 
cost five millions more to put the property 
in the same excellent condition in which 
the opening of hostilities had found it. It 
would cost another five millions to win back 
the confidence of the travelling and ship- 
ping public. Twenty millions would not 
cover the cost, directly and indirectly, to 

[ 184 ] 



tive agency thev n ,i . . " "^ '"«'« ^etec- 

jiiarf A„xr:ir;;:r ^'^ ^"---'^ 

roa "tJtrfor'" '^"r- *" -tore the 

the strike It 111 ""'" '""""^'* before 

had the ontrof tlr *"''" "'""^ ^""S« 
"Pon the wise pif "/'•"P^'-^y ""t settled 

had been all thSSe^T.r^'r ^" ""- 
Burlington road, to fin the n^*""^ "' '""^ 
they beean^e vac'ant, of .If tt b" '"' '' 
the strike—who w^r» ^"~the heroes of 

other compJjZZtiZ T'* "'* "^ 
^«y the affairs of f h P"«'t,ons. In this 

stantly in the h«nV /'""P'"'^ ""^'^ con- 

throui it :« ':': ir :^° '^^'^ ^-e 

worthless amonc- tZ ^^"^ °"t the 

the best of XJ Ittid Teft Vr "^^^* 
the beginning of 7hV 7 , ^''^ ''^■^d «t 

that thte if sic2; f„"offi ''T T"'* '^ 
tanee in the employ of the f °' ^P"" 

r ic.n '"P''"y to-day 
L '85 J •' 



A>,v- 



II 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 50^ 






who has not been \/ith it for a quarter of a 
century. The man who took the first engine 
out at the beginning of the strike — taking 
his life in his hands, as many beheved — is 
now the general manager of the road. 
There was something admirable, even he- 
roic, in the action of the owners in standing 
calmly by while the officials melted down 
millions of gold. As often as a directors' 
meeting was called the strikers would take 
heart. "Surely," they would say, "when 
they see what it costs to fight us they will 
surrender." The men seem never to have 
understood that all this was known to the 
directors long before the sad news reached 
the public. And then, when the directors 
would meet and votq to stand by the pres- 
ident, and the president would approve and 
endorse all that the g-^neral manager had 
done, the disheartened striker would turn 
sadly away to break the melancholy news 
to a sorrowing wife, who was keeping lonely 
vigil in a cheerless home. 

[ 186] 



CHAPTER TWENTIETH 

JJan Moran had not applied for re-em- 
ployment when the strike was off, but 
chose rather to look for work elsewhere, 
and he had looked long and faithfully, and 
found no place. First of all he had gone 
west, away to the coast, but with no suc- 
cess. Then he swung around the southern 
route, up the Atlantic coast and home 
again. Three years, — one year with the 
strikers, — four years in all of idleness, and 
he was discouraged. " It 's the curse of the 
prison," he used to say to his most intimate 
friends ; " the damp of that dungeon clings 
to me like a plague. It's a blight from 
which I can't escape. Every one seems to 
know that I was arrested as a dynamiter, 
and even my old friends shun me." 
He had been saying something hke that 
to Patsy Daly the very day he returned to 
Chicago. They were walking down through 
the yards, for Patsy, who was close to the 
officials, had insisted upon going personally 

[ 187] 



fi 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

to the master-mechanic, and interceding for 
the old engineer who had carried him thou- 
sands of miles while the world slept, and 
the wild storm raged around them. Patsy 
had been telling the old engineer the news 
of the road, but was surprised that Moran 
should seem to know all that had taken 
place, the changes and promotions, the vast 
improvements that had been made by the 
company, and the rapidly growing traffic. 
Patsy stopped short, and looking his com- 
panion in the eye, began to laugh. 
*' Now what in thunder are you laughing 
at ? " asked Moran. 

"At Patsy Daly, the luny," said the con- 
ductor (Patsy had been promoted) ; *' why, 
of course you know everything. I 've been 
rooming at the house, and I remember now 
that she always knew just .where you were 
at all times. Ah ! ye sly old rogue — " 
" Patsy," said Moran, seriously, putting up 
his hand as a signal for silence. 
"That's all right, old man. She deserves a 

[ 188 ] 



^ 




;i 


\ 







^ CHAPTER XX SO^ 



decent husband, but it 11 be something new 
to her. Say, Dan, a tool has less sense than 
anybody, an' Patsy Daly's a fool. Here 
have I been at the point of making love to 
her myself, and only lier tears and that big 
boy of hers have kept me from it. And all 
the time I thought she was wastin' water on 
that blathti'skite of a Cowels, but I think 
better of her now." 

"And why should she weep for any one 
else ? " asked the old engineer. 
" And why should n't she weep for you, 
Dannie ? w^andering up and down the earth, 
homeless and alone. Why I remember now. 
She would cry in her coffee at the men- 
tion of your name. And Dan, she 's growin' 
prettier every day, and she's that gentle 
and — " 

Just then the wild scream of a yard engine 
close behind them caused them to step 
aside. 

** Wope I " cried a switchman, ban^ bang 
went the bell — "Look out there," yelled 

[ 189 ] 



' 



iH 






^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

Patsy, for as the two pedestrians looked 
back they saw a drunken man reel out 
from among the cars. The driver of the 
switch-engine saw the man as the engine 
struck him, and, reversing, came to a quick 
stop and leaped to the ground. 
Tlie man lay with his lower limbs beneath 
the machine, and a blind driver (those broad 
wheels that have no flanges) resting on the 
pit of his stomach, holding him to the rail. 
The young engineer, having taken in the 
situation, leaped upon his engine, ar.d was 
about to back off when Moran signalled him 
to stand still. "Don't move," said the old 
engineer, " he may want to say a word be- 
fore he dies, and if you move that wheel he 
will be dead." 

" Why, hello Greene, old boss ; is this you ? " 
asked Moran, lifting the head of the un- 
fortunate man and pushing the unkept hair 
back from his forehead. 
Greene opened his eyes slowly, looked at 
his questioner, glanced all about and, as 

[ 190 ] 



^ CllAPTEll XX ^ 



Moran lifted his head, gazed at the great 
wheel that had almost cut his body into 
two pieces. He was perfectly sober now, 
and asked why they didn't back up and 
look him over. 

*' We shall presently," said Moran, ** only 
we were afraid we might hurt you. You are 
net in any pain now, are you ? " 
" No," said the man, " I don't know when 
I 've felt more comfortable ; but for all that I 
guess I 'm clean cut in two, ain't I, Dan ? " 
" Oh no, not so bad as that." 
*' Oh yes, I guess there 's no use ho^ 1in' out 
on me. Is the foreman here ? " 
" Yes, hire I am, Billy." 
" Billy I " said Greene, " now would n't that 
drive yop. to cigarettes ? Billy ! — why don't 
you call me drunken Bill ? I 'm used to 
that." 

" Well, what is it, old man ? " asked the fore- 
man, bending down. 

" You know this man ? This is Dan Moran, 
the dynamiter." And the foreman of the 



[191 ] 



^*^5^5*^t¥Wp| 



mm 



iMM 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h» 

round-house, recognizing the old engineer 
for the first time, held out his hand, partly 
to show to Moran and others that the strike 
was off, and partly to please the dying man. 
" That 's right," said Greene to the foreman, 
*' it 11 be good for you to touch an honest 
hand." 

By this time a great crowd had gathered 
about the engine. Some pohce officers 
pushed in and ordered the engineer to 
"back away." 

*' An' what 's it to ye ? " asked Greene with 
contempt, for he hated the very buttons of 
a policeman. " It s no funeral uf yours. Ye 
won't grudge me a few moments with me 
friend, will ye ? Move on ye tarrier." 
The big policeman glan'ied about and rec- 
ognizing the foreman asked why the devil 
he did n't " git th' felly out ? " 
Now a red-haired woman came to the edge 
of the crowd, put her bucket and scrubbing 
brush dovm, and asked what had happened. 
*' Drunk man under the engine," said one of 

[ 192 ] 



■I 



^ CHAPTER XX ^ 



rec- 
levil 

ledge 

Ibing 

med. 

le of 



the curious, snappishly. The woman knew 
that Greene had passed out that way only 
a few moments ago. She had given him a 
quarter and he had promised not to come 
back to her again, and now she put her 
head down and ploughed through the crowd 
like a football player. 

" Hello Mag," said Greene, as the woman 
threw herself upon her knees beside him. 
" Here 's yer money — I won't get to spend 
it," and he opened h*3 clinched fist and there 
was the piece of silver that she had given 
him. 

The big policeman now renewed his request 
to have the man taken out, but the foreman 
whispered something to him. " Oh I begorry, 
is that so ? All right, all right," said the offi- 
cer. 

" Am I delay in' traffic ? " asked Greene of 
the foreman. " It takes a little time to die 
ye know, but ye only have to do it onct." 
" Have ye's anythin' to say ? " asked the 
officer. 

[ 193] 



WHM 



^11 



3i 



it 
1' 



!:•( 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

"Yes," said Greene, for his hatred for a 
poHceman stayed with him to the end, "ye 
can do me a favor." 
" An' phot is it ? " 

" Jist keep your nose out of this business, 
an' don't speak to nie again till after I 'm 
dead. Do ye mind that, ye big duffer ? " 
It was the first time in all his life when he 
could say what was on his mind to a police- 
man without the dread of being arrested. 
" Come closer, Mag — whisper, Dan. Here, 
you," said Greene to the foreman, and that 
official bent down to catch the words which 
were growing fainter every moment. " I 'm 
goin' to die. Ye mind the time ye kicked 
me out at the round-house ? Well, ye don't 
need to say ; I mind, an' that 's sufficient. I 
swore to git even with the Burlington for 
that. I hated George Cowels because he 
married a woman that was too good fur 'im, 
— she was too good for me, for that matter. 
Well, when he went back on the Brother- 
hood and took his old engineer's job I went 

[ 194 ] 



m 



111 



Th» 



^ CHAPTER XX ^ 



for a 
d, " ye 



isiness, 
er I 'm 

• 

hen he 
police- 
;ted. 
. Here, 
nd that 
s which 
*'I'm 
kicked 
e don't 
cient. I 
ton for 
use he 
|fur 'im, 
matter, 
rother- 
1 went 



to this man Moran and offered to blow the 
engine up, and he put me out of his room. 
I then put the dynamite on the engine 
myself an' Moran followed me and took it 
off, and saved Cowels's life, prevented me 
from becoming a murderer, and went to 
jail. Good-by, Mag. Give me your hand 
Dan, old man. Back up." 
The old engineer nodded to the foreman, 
who signalled the man on the engine, and 
the great wheel moved from above the 
body. More than one man turned his back 
to the machine. The woman fainted. Moran 
had covered the eyes of the unfortunate 
man with his hand, and now when he re- 
moved it stowly the man's eyes were still 
closed. He never moved a finger nor uttered 
a sound. It was as if he had suddenly fallen 
asleep. 



[ 195 ] 



CHAPTER TWENTYFIRST 



I; 

'I; 



■ f 

,rt 

;(. 



Xhe Denver Limited had backed into the 
depot shed at Chicago, and was loading 
when the Philosoplier came through the 
gate. He was going down to Zero Junction 
where he was serving the company in the 
capacity of station agent. Patsy Daly was 
taking the numbers of the cars, and at his 
elbow walked a poorly-dressed man, and 
the Philosopher knew in a moment that the 
man wanted to ride. 

The Philosopher, with a cigar in his mouth, 
strolled up and down catching snatches of 
the man's talk. In a little while he had 
gathered that the anxious stranger's wife 
lay dying in Cheyenne, and that he had 
been tramping up and down the land for 
six months looking for work. If Patsy could 
give him a lift to Omaha he could work his 
way over the U. P. where he knew some 
of the trainmen, having worked on the Kan- 
sas Pacific out of Denver in the early days 
of the road. His story was so hfelike and 

[ l'^6 ] 



^i 



RST 

to the 
oading 
rh the 
iiiction 
in the 
ly was 
at his 
n, and 
liat the 

mouth, 
hes of 
le had 
wife 
had 
,nd for 
could 
rk his 
some 
Kan- 
days 
and 



s 
le 



^ CHAPTER XXI ^ 

pathetic that Patsy was beginning to look 
troubled. If he could help a fellow-creature 
up the long, hard hill of life — three or four 
hundred miles in a single night — without 
straining the capacity of the engine, he felt 
that he ought to do it. 

Patsy had gone to the head end (the stran- 
ger standing respectfully apart) to ask the 
engineer to slow down at the Junction, and 
let the agent off. He hoped the man might 
go away and try a freiglit train, but as the 
conductor turned back the unfortunate trav- 
eller joined him. 

Now the eyes of Patsy fell upon the face 
of the Philosopher, and a brilliant thought 
flashed through his mind. He marvelled, 
afterwards, that he had not thought of it 
sooner. 

"Here, old man," said Patsy, "take this 
fellow's testimony, try his case, and let me 
have your opinion in nine minutes — it 's 
just ten minutes to leaving time." 
Now it was the Philosopher to whom the 

[ 197 ] 



if 



SKt 









1 

t 



: i 



l\ 





11 ' 


'■ 










1' i 


£^ 


■ ■ 1 


i 1 


1 ^1 


1 ( 


'i i 


! ■'- 


■I 




lit: 

'1 i 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

prospective widower rehearsed his tale of 
woe. 

There was not much time, so the station 
agent at Zero began by offering the man 
a cigar, which was accepted. In the midst 
of his sorrowful story the man paused to 
observe a handsome woman, who was at 
that moment lifting her dainty, silken skirts 
to step into the sleeper. The Philosopher 
had his eves fastened to the face of the 
man, and he thought he saw the man's 
mustache quiver as though it had been agi- 
tated by the passing of a smothered smile. 
" Well," the man was saying, " we had been 
married only a year when I lost my place 
and started out to look for work." 
By this time he had taken a small pocket 
knife from his somewhat ragged vest, chpped 
the end off the cigar neatly, put the cut end 
between his teeth, and the knife back into 
his pocket. Without pausing in his narrative 
(he knew he had but nine minutes) he held 
out a hand for a match. The Philosopher 

[ 198 ] 



\ 



tale of 

station 
:he man 
le midst 
Lused to 

was at 
m skirts 
losopher 

of the 
e man's 
een agi- 
smile. 
ad been 
y place 

pocket 
clipped 
cut end 
ck into 
arrative 
he held 
osopher 



^ CHAPTER XXI S^ 

pretended not to notice the movement, 
which '/as graceful and perfectly natural. 
As they turned, up near the engine, the 
sorrowful man went into his vest again and 
brought up a small, silver match-box which 
he held carefully in his closed fist, but 
which snapped sharply, as the knife had 
done when he closed it. 
" Excuse me," said the Philosopher, reach- 
ing for the match-box, " I Ve lost my fire." 
The melancholy man made a move towards 
his vest, paused, changed his mind, and 
passed over his lighted cigar. 
" Go on," said the examining judge, when 
he had got his cigar going again. 
Now at each turn the Philosopher quick- 
ened his pace, and the man, eager to finish 
his sad story, walked beside him with a 
graceful, springy walk. The man's story was 
so like his own — so like the tale he had told 
to Patsy when the strikers had chased him 
into a box car — that his heart must have 
melted, had it not been for the fact that he 

[ 199 ] 



k 



■* r- 



I 



1 ! 



i V \ 



ivf' 



H :^^ 



1, s 

1.1 J I 




i 




r 



* 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT Sfr 

was becoming more and more convinced, 
as the story grew upon him, tliat the man 
was lying. Now and then he said to himself 
in spite of himself, *' This must be true," for 
there were tears in the man's voice, aiid yet 
there were things about him that must be 
explained before he could ride. 
" Patsy," said the Philosopher, pausing be- 
fore the conductor, ** if you 11 stand half the 
strain, I '11 go buy a ticket for this man to 
Cheyenne." 

" N' no," said the man, visibly affected by 
this unexpected generosity, " n' no, I can't 
let you do that. I should be glad of a ride 
that would cost you nothing and the com- 
pany nothing; but I can't — I can't take 
your money," and he turned away, touch- 
ing the cufF of his coat, first to his right and 
then to his left eye. 

Patsy sighed, and the two men walked 
again. Five minutes more and the big en- 
gine would begin to crawl from the great 
shed, and the voyager began wondering 

[ 200 ] 



.1 \ I 



^ CHAPTER XXI 5€^ 



whether he would be on board. The engi- 
neer was going round the engine for the hist 
time. The fireman had spread his fire and 
was leaning leisurely on the arm-rest. The 
Pullman conductors, with clean cuffs and 
collars, were putting away their people. 
The black-faced porters were taking the 
measures of men as they entered the car. 
Here comes a gray-haired clergyman, carry- 
ing a heavy hand-satchel, and by his side an 
athletic looking commercial tourist. 
One of the black porters glides forward, 
takes the light hand-grip, containing the 
travelling man's tooth-brush, nightshirt, and 
razor, and runs up the step with it. 
Now a train arrives from the West, and the 
people who are going away look into the 
faces of the people who are coming home, 
who look neither to the right nor left, but 
straight ahead at the open gates, and in 
three minutes the empty cars are being 
backed away, to be washed and dusted, and 
made ready for another voyage. Hotv sad 

[ 201 ] 



|> 



B*v^&5 






I- 







f ! 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADIJGHT ^ 

and interesting would be the story of the 
life of a day coach. Heaten, bumped, bat- 
tered, and banged about in the yards, trann- 
pled and spat upon by vulgar voyagers, who 
get on and off at flag stations, and finally, 
in a head-end collision, crushed between the 
heavy vestibuled sleepers and the mighty 
engine. 

But sadder still is the story of a man who 
has been buffeted about and walked upon 
by the arrogant of this earth, and to such 
a story the Philosopher was now listening. 
The man was talking so rapidly that he 
almost balled up at times, and had to go 
back and begin again. At times it seemed 
to him that the Philosopher, to whom he 
was talking, was giving little or no atten- 
tion to his tale ; but he was. He was making 
up his mind. 

It is amazing the amount of work that can 
be done in ten minutes, when ail the world 
is working. Tons of trunks had passed in 
and out, the long platform had been peo- 

[ 202 ] 



iiii^ 



TSfr 



^ CHAPTER XXI ^ 



of the 
;d, bat- 
<, tram- 
;rs, who 

finally, 
een the 

mighty 

lan who 
id upon 
to such 
istening. 
that he 
to go 

seemed 
hom he 
|o atten- 

making 

Dhat can 
le world 
issed hi 
ken peo- 



pled and depopuhited twice since tlie two 
men began their walk, and now another 
train gave up its human freight to tlie al- 
ready crowded city. 

Now, as they went up and down, the Phil- 
osopher, at each turn, went a little nearer to 
the eni^ine. Only three minutes remained to 
him in which to render his decision, which 
was to help the unhappy man a half-thou- 
sand miles on the way to his dying wife, or 
leave him sadder still because of the failure 
— to pine and ponder upon man's inhuman- 
ity to man. 

Patsy, glancing now and then at the big 
clock on the station wall, searched the sad 
face of his friend and tried to read there the 
answer to the man's prayer. 
It would be that the man should ride, he 
had no doubt, for this story was so like the 
story of this same man, the Philosopher, 
with which he had come into Patsy's life, 
and Patsy had resolved never to turn his 
back upon a man who was down on his luck. 

[ 203 ] 



I 11 



In 



II 



1 


M 





iM 




^ SNOW ON Tin: IIEADLKJllT S» 

Tlic l*liil()S()j)lier's fjice was iiulcriplienible. 
Fiiijilly when tliey luul come to the turning 
point in the siuidow of the nuiil car, he 
stopped, leaned a<jjainst the corner of the 
tank and said : " I can't make you out, and 
you haven't made out your case." 
" I don't foUow you," said the man. 
"No? Well suppose I say, for answer, that 
T '11 let you ^o sneak away i.p through the 
yards and lose yourself; provided you prom- 
ise not to do it again." 

** You talk in riddles. AVhat is it that I am 
not to do again ? You say you have hit the 
road yourself, and you ought to have sym- 
pathy for a fellow out o' luck." 
'* I have, and that 's why I 'm going to let 
you go. Your story is a sad one, and it has 
softened my heart. It 's the story of my own 
life." 

"Then how can you refuse me this favor, 
that will cost you nothing ? " 
" Had n't you better go ? " 
** No, I want you to answer me." 

[ 204 ] 



I: . ; J. 



^ CHAPTER XXI S€^ 



*' Well, to be f'nink with you, you are not ii 

tramp. You Ve f^ot money, and you had red 

wine with your supper, or your dumer, as 

you would say." 

The man laughed, a soundless laugh, and 

tried to look sad. 

"You've got a gold sigiiet ring in )our 

right trousers pocket." 

The man worked his fingers and when the 

Philosopher thought he must have the ring 

in his hand, he caught hold of the man's 

wrist, jerked the hand from his pocket, and 

the ring rolled uj)on the j)latf()rm. VV^hen 

the man cut off' the end of his cigar the 

Philosopher had seen a white line around 

one of the fingers of the man'.-i sea-browned 

hand. Real tramps, thought the Philosopher, 

don't cut off the ends of their cigars. I'hey 

bite them off, and save the bite. They don't 

throw a half-smoked cigar away, but put it, 

burning if necessary, in their pt)cket. 

'* What do you mean ? " demanded the man, 

indignantly. 

[ 205 ] 




■BBI 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 





m 



L'i 



II! 
! 



J! 



!i 



if) 



!- 



!l 



>» 



" Pick up your ring." 
" I have a mind to smash you.' 
"Do, and you can ride." 
" \ ou Ve got your nerve." 
" You have n't. \A^hy did you stare at that 
lady's feet, when she was climbing into the 
car? 

" That 's not your business." 
"It's all my business now." 
" I '11 report you for this." 
The man started to walk past the big sta- 
tion master, but a strong hand was clapped 
to the man's breast pocket and when it came 
away it held a small pocket memorandum. 
"See what's in that, Patsy," said the Phil- 
osopher, passing the book to the conductor, 
who had gone forward for the decision. 
The man made a move, as if he would 
snatch the book, but the big hand at his 
throat twisted the flannel shirt, and choked 
him. Patsy, holding the book in the glare of 
his white light, read the record of a man 
who had been much away from liome. He 

[ 200 ] 



msffl 



vh» 



^ CHAPTER XXI SO^ 



at that 
[iito the 



big sta- 
clapped 
it came 

ndum. 

he Phii- 

nductor, 

on. 

would 

at his 

choked 

glare of 

a man 

)me. He 



had, according to the book, ridden with 
many conductors, whose names were fa- 
miliar to Patsy, and had, upon divers occa- 
sions, noticed that sometimes some people 
rode without payuig fare. In another place 
Patsy learned that trainmen and other em- 
ployees drank beer, or other intoxicating 
beverages. A case in point was a couple of 
brakemen on local who, after unloading a 
half-dozen reapers arid a threshing machine 
at Mendota, had gone into a saloon with the 
shipper and killed their thirst. 
While Patsy was gleaning this interesting 
information the man writhed and twisted, 
fought arrd fumed, but it was in vain, for 
the hand of the Philosopher was upon his 
throat. 

" Let me go," gasped the man, " an' we 'U 
call it square, an' I won't report you." 
" Oh I how good of you." 
* Let me go, I say, you big brute." 
" I wanted to let you go a while ago, and 
you would n't have it." 

[ 207 ] 



If- 



m 



'ini 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

The man pulled back like a horse that won't 
stand hitched and the button flew from his 
cheap flannel shirt. 

" I 'm a goat," said the Philosopher, stroking 
the man's chest with his big riirht hand, " if 
he hasn't got on silk underwear." 
"Come now, you fellahs," said the man 
changing his tune, "let me go and you 11 
always have a friend at Court." 
" Be quiet," said the Philosopher, " I 'm 
going to let you go, but tell me, why did 
you want to do little Patsy, that everybody 
likes ? " 

"Because Mr. Paul was so cock sure I 
couldn't. He bet me a case of champagne 
that I could n't ride on the Omaha Limited 
without paying fare." 
" And now you lose the champagne." 
" It looks that way." 
"Poor tramp!" 

Patsy had walked to the rear of the train, 
shouted "All aboard," and the cars were 
now slipping past the two men. 

[ 208 ] 



I 



lat won't 
from his 

stroking 
land, " if 

the man 
id you 11 

r, " i m 
why did 
i^erybody 

I sure I 

ampagne 

Limited 



^ CHAPTER XXI ^ 



" Have you still a mind to smash me ? " 

" Every dog has his day, eh ? " 
"Curse you." 

"Good night" said the PhUosopher, reach- 
ing for a pissing car. 

1?.°. *° ~" '"''^ "'^ ^'■'"^P' ">d the train 
taded away out over the switches. 



I 



:be train, 
!ars were 



<i.. 



[ 209 ] 



. H in w i ' im ' i'i ' iji;^ --. 



rf '3 



CHAPTER TWENTY SECOND 



r ;i 



il^ 



X HE old master-mechanic, who had insisted 
that Dan Moran was innocent, from the 
first, liad gone away ; bat the new man was 
wilhng to give him an engine after the con- 
fession of Bill Greene. Having secured work 
the old engineer called upon the widow, for 
he could tell her, now, all about the dyna- 
mite. Three years had brought little change 
to her. She might be a little bit stouter, but 
she was handsomer than ever, Dan thought. 
The little girl, whom he remembered as a 
toddling infant, was a sunny child of four 
years. Bennie was now fourteen and was 
employed as caller at the round-house, and 
his wages, thirty dollars a month, kept up 
the expenses of the home. He had inherited 
the splendid constitution of his father with 
the gentleness and honesty of his mother. 
The foreman was very fond of him, and 
having been instructed by the old general 
manager to take good care of the boy, for 
his mother's sake, he had arranged to send 

[ 210 ] 



^OND 

insisted 
rom the 
man was 
the con- 
red work 
idow, for 
he dyna- 
le change 
)nter, but 
i thought, 
lered as a 
d of four 
and was 
louse, and 
kept up 
inherited 
,ther with 
naother. 
him, and 
|d general 
boy, for 
A to send 



^ CHAPTER XXII S^ 

him out firing, which would pay better, as 
soon as he was old enough. So Moran found 
the little family well, prosperous, and rea- 
sonably happy, l^resently, when she could 
wait no longer, Mrs. Cowels asked the old 
engineer if he had come back to stay, and 
when he said he had, her face betrayed so 
much joy that Moran felt half embarrassed, 
and his heart, which had been so heavy for 
the past four years, gave a thump that 
startled him. " Oh I I 'm so glad," she said 
earnestly, looking down and playing with 
her hands ; and while her eyes were not 
upon his, Moran gazed upon the gentle face 
that had haunted him day and night in his 
three years' tramp about the world. 
*' Yes," he said at length, " I 'm going back 
to the ' Q.' It 's not Blackwings, to be sure, 
and the Denver Limited, but it's work, 
and that's something, for it seems to me 
that I can bear this idleness no longer. It 's 
the hardest work in the world, just to have 
nothing to do, month in and month out, 

[ 211 ] 



Iff I 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 



W. 



and to be compelled to do it. I can't stand 
it, that s all, and I 'm going out on a gravel 
train to-morrow." 

^loran remembered now that Bennie had 
come to him that morning in the round- 
house and begged the engineer to "ask for 
him," to go out as fireman on the gravel 
train, for it was really a boy's work to keep 
an engine hot on a side track, but he would 
not promise, and the boy had been greatly 
disappointed. 

"I 'd like to ask for the boy," said Moran, 
" with your permission. He 's been at me all 
morning, and I 'm sure the foreman won't 
object if you consent." 
" But he 's so young, Dan ; he could never 
do the work." 

" I '11 look out for him," said the engineer, 
nodding his head. " I '11 keep him busy 
waiting on me when we lay up, and when 
we have a hard run for a meeting-point 
there 's always the head brakeman, and they 
can usually fire as well as a fireman." 

[ ^12 ] 




aTS«^ 



^ CHAPTER XXII 5C^ 



I't stand 
a gravel 

nnie had 
e round- 
" ask for 
iie gravel 
k to keep 
he would 
211 greatly 

id Moran, 
^ at me all 
nan won't 

)uld never 

engineer, 
him busy 
and when 
-ting-point 

, and they 
in. 



" I will consent only to please him," she 
said, " and because I should Hke to have 
him with you." 

He thanked her for the compliment, and 
took up his hat to go. 

" And how often shall I see you now ? I 
mean — how soon — when will 15ennie be 
home again ? " 

They were standing close together in the 
little hall, and when he looked deep into 
her eyes, she became confused and blushed 
like a school-girl. 

" Well, to be honest, we never know on a 
run of this sort when we may get back to 
town. It may be a day, a week, or a 
month," said Moran. *' But I '11 promise you 
that I will not keep him away longer than 
is necessary. We don't work Sundays, of 
course, and I '11 try and dead-head him in 
Saturday nights, and you can send him back 
on the fast freight Sunday evenings. The 
watchman can fire the engine in an emer- 
gency, you know." 

[ 213 ] 



f 



^1^" ^ 




k 




¥ 



nil: 



^^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

" But the watchiriiin could n't run her in an 
emergency ? " (jueried the little woman. 
" I 'm afraid not," said JMoran, catching the 
drift of her mind, and feeling proud of the 
compliment concealed in the harmless query. 
" But I shall enjoy having him come to you 
once a week to show you that I have not 
forgotten my promise." 
" And I shall know," she answered, putting 
up a warning finger, " by his actions whether 
you have been good to him." 
" And by the same token I can tell whether 
you are happy," rejoined the engineer, tak- 
ing both her hands in his to say good-bye. 
Moran went directly to the round-house 
and spoke to the foreman, and when Bennie 
came home that evening he threw himself 
upon his mother's neck and wept for very 
joy. His mother wept, too, for it means 
something to a motner to have her only boy 
go out to begin life on the rail. After supper 
they all went over to the little general store, 
where she had once been refused credit — 

[ 214 ] 



ler in an 
lan. 

ning the 
d of tVie 
ss query, 
le to you 
have not 

I, putting 
s whether 

1 whether 
neer, tak- 
od-bye. 
md-house 
n Bennie 
himself 
for very 
it means 
only boy 
er supper 
iral store, 
credit — 



^ CHAPTER XXII 5fr 

where she had spent their last dollar for 
Christmas presents for little Hennie and his 
father, chiefly his father — and bought two 
suits of bright blue overclothes for the new 
fireman. " Mother, I once lieard the fore- 
man say that Dan JMoran had been like a 
father to papa," said Beiniic that evening. 
" Guess he '11 start in being a father to me 
now, eh ! mother ? " 

Mrs. Cowels smiled and kissed him, and 
then she cried a little, but only a little, for 
in spite of all her troubles she felt almost 
happy that night. 

It was nearly midnight when Bennie fin- 
ished trying on his overclothes and finally 
fell asleep. It was only four a. m. when he 
shook his mother gently and asked her to 
get up and get breakfast. 
" What time is it, Bennie ? " 
" I don't know, exactly," said Bennie, " but it 
must be late. I 've been up a long, long time. 
You know you have to put up my lunch, and 
I want to get down and draw my supplies. 

[ 215 ] 




V. 



Ii 



J!! 



^>1 



liilj 



«a^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 

Could n't do it last night 'cause they did n't 
know what engine we were going to have." 
Mrs. Cowels got up and prepared breakfast 
and Bennie ate hurriedly and then began to 
look out for the caller. He would have gone 
to the round-house at once but he wanted 
to sign the callbook at home. How he had 
envied the firemen who had been called by 
him. He knew just how it would be written 
in the callbook : 

Extra West^ Eng. — Leave 8:15 A. M. 
Engineer Moran, — D. Mora?! 7:15. 
Fireman Cowels. — 

And there was the blank space where he 
would write his name. At six o'clock he 
declared to his mother that he must go 
down and get his engine hot, and after a 
hasty good-bye he started. Ten minutes 
later he came into the round-house and 
asked the night foreman where his engine 
was. 

" Well," said the foreman, " we have n't got 

[ 216 ] 




itS«^ 



^ CHAPTER XXII S0^ 



y did n't 
) have." 
t)reakfast 
began to 
ave gone 
e wanted 
VST he had 
called by 
)e written 



A.M. 

15. 

where he 
o'clock he 
must go 
id after a 
minutes 
lOUse and 
his engine 



ave 



n't got 



your engine yet," and the boy's chin dropped 
down and rested upon his new bhie blouse. 
" I guess we '11 have to send you out on one 
of the company's engines this trip." 
There was a great roar of laughter from the 
wiping gang and Bennie looked embarrassed. 
He concluded to say no more to the fore- 
man, but went directly to the blackboard, 
got the number and found the engine which 
had been assigned to the gravel train be- 
cause she was not fit for road work. A sorry 
old wreck she was, covered with ashes and 
grease, but it made little difference to Ben- 
nie so long as she had a whistle and a bell, 
and he set to work to stock her up with sup- 
plies. 

He had drawn supplies for many a tired 
fireman in his leisure moments and knew 
very nearly what was needed. But the first 
thing he did was to open the blower and 
"get her hot." He got the foreman hot, 
too, and in a little while he heard that of- 
ficial shout to the hostler to " run the scrap 

[ 217 ] 






l« 




f! 



'm 



ill 



'■M\\ 



<0^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

heap out-doors, and put that fresh kid in the 
tank." 

Benuie didn't mind the reference to the 
'* fresh kid," but he thouglit the foreman 
might have called her something better than 
a scrap heap, but he was a smart boy and 
knew that it would be no use to " kick." 
It was half-past seven when INIrs. Cowels 
opened the door in answer to the bell, and 
blushed, and glanced down at her b'g apron. 
'* I thought I 'd look in on my v/ay to the 
round-house," said Moran, removing his hat, 
"foi Bennie." 

*' Why, the dear boy has been gone an hour 
and a half, but I 'm glad (won't you come 
in ? ) you called for he has forgotten his 
gloves." 

" Thank you," said the engineer, " the fact 
is T 'm a Httle late, for I don't know what 
soit of a scrap pile I have to take out and 
I d like, of course, to go underneath her be- 
fore she leaves the round-house, so I can't 
come in this morning," 

[ 218 ] 



.r-'.M' 



S.c 



! I 




to the 
oreman 
:er than 
;)()y and 

ck." 
Cowels 

aell, and 
r apron. 
,y to tliC 
r his hat, 

an hour 
on come 
►tten his 

I' the fact 
low what 
out and 
[h her be- 
^o I can't 



^ CHAPTER XXII ^ 

When Mrs. Cowels had given him the 
gloves he took her hand to say good-bye, 
and the wife of one of the new men, who 
saw it, said afterwards thiit he held it longer 
than was necessary, just to say good-bye. 
When Dan reached the round-house liennie 
was up on top of the old engine oiling the 
bell. What would an engine without a bell 
be to a boy ? And yet in Europe they 
have no bells, but there is a vast difference 
between the ^imerican and the European 
boy. 

Moran stopped in the round-house long 
enough to read the long list of names on the 
blackbo?rd. They were nearly all new to 
him, as were the faces about, and he turned 
away. 

The orders ran them extra to Aurora, avoid- 
ing regular trains. Moran glanced at the 
faces of all the incoming engineers as he 
met and passed them, but with one excep- 
tion they were all strangers to him. He rec- 
ognized young Guerin, who had been fireman 

[ 219 ] 




.1 



I < 



I' B I 

: t 

; t 



U '. I 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5€» 

on Blackwings the night George Cowels was 
killed, and he was now running a passenger 
engine. 

" How the mushrooms have vegetated here- 
abouts," thought Moran, as he glanced up 
at the stack of the old work engine, but he 
was never much of a kicker, so he would 
not kick now. This wasn't much of a run, 
but it beat looking for a better one. 
*' Not so much coal, Bennie. Take your 
clinker hook and level it off. That's it, — 
see the black smoke ? Keep your furnace 
door shut. Now look at your stack again. 
See the yellow smoke hanging 'round ? 
Rake her down again. Now it 's black, and 
if it burns clear — see there ? There is no 
smoke at all ; that shows that her fire is 
level. Sweep up your deck now while you 
rest." 



if, «. 



[ 220 ] 



tS«^ 



CHAPTER TWENTY THIRD 



els was 
ssenger 

id here- 
iced up 
, but he 
3 would 
f a run, 

ke your 
,t's it, — 
furnace 
pk agaui. 
round ? 
ack, and 
re is no 
er fire is 
irhile you 



One night when the Limited was roaring 
up from the Missouri River against one of 
those March rains that come out of the 
east, there came to Patsy one of the temp- 
tations that are hardest for a man of his 
kind nature to withstand. The trial began 
at Galesburg. Patsy was hugging the rear 
end of the day coach in order to keep out 
of the cruel storm, when his eyes rested 
upon the white face of a poorly clad wo- 
man. She stood motionless as a statue, 
voiceless as the Sphinx, with the cold rain 
beating upon her uplifted face, until Patsy 
cried " All aboard." Then she pulled herself 
together and climbed into the train. The 
conductor, leaving his white light upon the 
platform of the car, stepped down and 
helped the dripping woman into the conch. 
When the train had dashed away a^ain up 
the rain-swept night. Patsy found the wet 
passenger rocking to and fro on the little 
seat that used to run lengthwise of the car 

[221 ] 



if 



1! 







^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

up near the stove, before the use of steam 
heat. 

" Ticket," said the conductor. 
The woman hfted her eyes to his, but 
seemed to be staring at something beyond. 
" Ticket, please." 

"Yes — y-e-a-s," she spoke as though the 
effort caused her intense pain. " I want — 
to — go to Chicago." 
" Yes. Have you a ticket ? " 
« Yes." 

" Where is it ? " 
" Where 's what ? " 
*' Where 's your ticket ? " 
" I ain't got no ticket." 
" Have you got money ? " 
"No. I do' want money. I jist want you to 
take me to Chicago." 

"But I can't take you without }4 pay 
fare." 

" Can't you ? I Ve been standin' there in 
the rain all night, but nobody would let 
me on the train — all the trains is gone but 

[ 222 ] 




[tS«^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIII S^ 



f steam 



lis, but 
eyond. 

Ligh the 
want — 



t you 



to 



pay 



1 there in 
rould let 



rone 



but 



this one. I 'd most give up when you said, 
* Git on,' er somethin'." 
" Why do you want to go to Chicago ? " 
" Oh ! I must be there fur the trial." 
" Who's trial ? " 

" Terrence's. They think my boy, Terrence, 
killed a man, an' I 'm goin' up to tell th' 
judge. Of course, they don't know Terrence. 
He 's wild and runs around a heap, but he 's 
not what you may call bad." 
The poor woman was half-crazed by her 
grief, and her blood was chilled by the cold 
rain. She could not have been wetter at the 
bottom of Lake Michigan. When she ceased 
speaking, she shivered. 
" It was good in you to let me git on, an' I 
thank you very kindly." 
" But I can't carry you unless you can pay." 
" Oh ! I kin walk soon 's we git ther." 
" But you can't get there. I '11 have to stop 
and put you off." 

The unhappy woman opened her eyes and 
mouth and stared at the condu<!tor. 

[ 223 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 



(■^ 



"Put— me— off?" 
" Yes." 

" It 's rainin' ain't it ? " She shivered again, 
and tried to look out into the black night. 
" Don't yor know better than to get onto 
a train without a ticket or money to pay 
your fare ? " 

** Yes ; but they '11 hang Terrence, they '11 
hang 'im, they '11 hang 'im," and she moaned 
and rocked herself. 

Patsy went on through the train and when he 
came back the woman was still rocking and 
staring blankly at the floor, as he had found 
her before. She had to look at him for some 
time before she could remember him. 
" Can't you go no faster ? " 
Patsy sighed. 
" What time is it ? " 
" Six o'clock." 

*' Will we git there by half after nine ? — th' 
trial 's at ten." 
" Yes. ' 

Patsy sat down and looked at the wreck. 

[ 224] 



iTho^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIII S^ 



[1 again, 
night, 
ret onto 
to pay 

, they'll 
moaned 

when he 
king and 
ad found 
for some 



ne ? — th' 



rreck. 



" Now, a man who could put such a woman 
off, in such a storm, at such an hour, and 
with a grief hke that," said Patsy to him- 
self, " would pasture a goat on his grand- 
mother's grave." 

When Patsy woke at two o'clock that after- 
noon, he picked up a noon edition of an all- 
day paper, and the very first word he read 
was " Not guilty." That was the heading of 
the police news. 

" There was a pathetic scene in Judge 
Meyer's court this morning at the prelimi- 
nary hearing of the case of Terrence Cassidy, 
charged with the Harder of the old farmer 
at Spring Bank on Monday last. All efforts 
to draw a confession from Cassidy had failed, 
and the detectives had come to the conclu- 
sion that he was either very innocent or 
very guilty — there was no purgatory for 
Terrence ; it was heaven or the hot place, 
according to the detectives. For once the 
detectives were right. Terrence was very in- 

[ 225 ] 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 



ri 

P 





nocent. It appears that the tramp who was 
killed on the Wabash last night made a 
confession to the trainmen, after being hit 
by the engine, to the effect that he had 
murdered the old farmer, and afterwards, 
at the point of an empty pistol, forced a 
young Irishman, whom he met upon the 
railroad track, to exchange clothes with 
him. That accounts for the blood stains 
upon Cassidy's coat, but, of course, nobody 
credited his story. 

" The tramp's confession, however, was wired 
to the general manager of the Wabash by 
the conductor of the out-going train, to- 
gether with a description of the tramp's 
clothes, which description tallies with that 
given of those garments worn by Cassidy. 
" This good news did not reach the court, 
however, until after the prisoner had been 
arraigned. When asked the usual question, 
* Guilty, or not guilty ? ' the boy stood up 
and was about to address some remarks to 
the court, when suddenly there rushed into 

[ 226 ] 



^ CHAPTER XXIII ^ 



the room about the sorriest looking woman 
who ever stood before a judge. She was 
poorly clad, wet as a rat, haggard and pale. 
Her voice was hoarse and unearthly. No- 
body seemed to see her enter. Suddenly, as 
If she had .isen from the floor, she stood at 
the raihng, raised a trembling hand and 
shouted, as well as she could shout, 'Not 
guilty ! ' 

" Before the bewildered judge could lift his 
gavel, the prosecuting attorney rose dra- 
matically, and asked to be allowed to read 
a telegram that had just been received 
which purported to be the signed confession 
01 a dying man. 

"As might be expected, there were not 
many dry eyes in that court when, a mo- 
ment later, the boy was sobbing on his 
mother's wet shoulder, and she, rocking to 
and fro, was saying softly ' Poor Terrence 
my poor Torrence.'" .' 

As Patsy was walking back from Hooley's 

[ 227 ] 






1^: 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

Theatre, where he had gone to get tickets 
(this was his night off), he met the acting 
chief clerk in one of the departments to 
which, under the rules then in vogue, he 
owed allegiance. 

** I want to see you at the office," said the 
amateur official, and Patsy was veiy much 
surprised at the brevity of the speech. He 
went up to his room and tried to read, 
but the ever recurring thought that he was 
"wanted at the office" disturbed him and 
he determined to go at once and have it 
out. 

The conductor removed his hat in the au- 
gust presence and asked, timidly, what was 
wanted. 

" You ought to know," said the great judge. 
"But I don't," said Patsy, taking courage 
as he arrayed himself, with a clear con- 
science, on the defensive. 
"Are you in the habit of carrying people 
on the Denver Limited who have no trans- 
portation ? " 

[ 228 ] 



^ CHAPTER XXIII S^ 






" No, sir." 
Then, how does it happen that you car- 



et 



ried a woman from Galeshurg to Chicago 
last night who had neither ticket nor 
money, so far as we know ? It will do you 
no good to deny it, for 1 have the report of 
a special agent before me, and — " 
" I have no desire to deny it, sir. All I deny 
is that this is your business." 
« What ? " yelled the official. 
" I beg your pardon, sir. I should not have 
spoken in that way ; but what I wish to say 
and wish you to understand is that I owe 
you no explanation." 
** I stand for the company, sir." 
" So do I, and have stood as many years as 
you have months. I have handled as many 
dollars for them as you have ever seen 
dimes, and, what's more to the point, 1 
stand ready to quit the moment the man- 
agement loses confidence in me, and with 
the assurance of a better job. Can all the 
great men say as much ? " 

[ 229 ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADIJGHT ^ 



,'1 



The force aiul vehemence of the excited and 
indignant httle Irishman caused the " man- 
agement " to pause in its young career. 
*' Will you tell me why you cariied this 
woman who had no ticket ? " 
'* No. I have rendered unto Caesar that which 
is Ciesar's. For further particulars, see my 
report," and with that Patsy walked out. 
"Let's see, let's see," said the "manage- 
ment " ; " ' Two passengers, Galesburg to 
Chicago, one ticket, one cash fare.' What 
an ass 1 've made of myself; but, just wait 
till I catch that Hawkshaw." 



tW 






[ 230 ] 



1\\ 



aTS€^ 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH 



ited and 
3 " man- 
ner, 
ied this 



lat which 
, see my 
i out. 
manage- 
sburg to 
e.' What 
just wait 



" Always together in siinshhic and rain^ 
Facing the weather atop 6" the trains 
Watching the meadows move under the stars ; 
Always together atop o' the cars.'''' 

Jl ATSY was just singing it soft and low to 
himself, and not even thinking of the song, 
for he was not riding " atop o' the ears " 
now. With his arm run through the bail 
of his nickel-plated, white light, he was 
taking the numbers and initials of the cars 
in the Denver Limited. He was a handsome 
fellow, and the eight or ten years that had 
passed lightly over his head since he came 
singing himself into the office of the general 
manager to ask for a pass over a competing 
line, had rounded out his figure, and given 
him a becoming mustache, but they had 
left just a shade of sadness upon his sunny 
face. The little mother whom he used to 
visit at Council Bluffs had fallen asleep 
down by the dark Missouri, and he would 
not see her again until he reached the end 

[ 231 ] 




n 




^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT h^ 

of his last run. And that's what put the 
shadow upon his sunny face. The white 
hght, held close to his bright, new uniform, 
flashed over his spotless linen, and set his 
buttons ablaze. 

Ah there, my beauty ! any room for dead- 
heads to-night ? " 

Patsy turned to his questioner, closed his 
train-book and held out his hand : " Always 
room for the Irish ; where are you tagged 
for ? " 

" The junction." 
" But we don't stop there. 
*' I know, but I thought Moran might slow 
her down to about twenty posts, and I can 
fall off — I missed the local." 
" I 've got a new man," said Patsy, " and 
he '11 be a bit nervous to-night, but if we 
hit the top of Zero Hill on the dot we'll 
let you off; if not, we '11 carry you through, 
and you can come back on No. 4." 
"Thank you," said the Philosopher, "but 
I 'm sorry to trouble you." 

[ 232 ] 



iTb^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIV S^ 



put the 

I white 

mifonn, 

set his 



or 



dead- 



osed his 
' Always 
Li tagged 



ight slow 
nd I can 

|sy, "and 
lut if we 
lot we'll 
through, 



ler, 



(( 



but 



" And I don't intend you shall ; just step 
back to tlic outside gate and flag Mr. and 
Mrs. Moran, and don't let him buy a ticket 
for the sleeper ; I 've got passes for him 
right through to the coast." 
As the Philosopher went back to "flag," 
Patsy went forward to the engine. " If you 
hit Zero Junction on time, Guerin, I wish 
you'd slow down and let the agent off," 
said the conductor. 
" And if I 'm .ate ? " 
" Don't stop." 

" Well," said the young driver, " we '11 not 
be apt to stop, for it 's a wild night, Patsy ; 
a slippery rail and almost a head wind." 
"Nothing short of a blizzard can check 
Black wings," said Patsy, going to the rear. 
The day coaches were already well filled, 
and the sleeping-car conductors were busy 
putting their people away when the Phil- 
osopher came down the platform accom- 
panied by the veteran engineer, his pretty 
wife, and her bright little girl. Mrs. Moran 

[ 233 ] 



wmmii 



«0? SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5«» 






,i 


iHkwf 


i 


1 


^u 




1 


1 



f . 



I 1 



and her daughter entered the sleeper, while 
her husband and the station master remained 
outside to finish their cigars. 
" What a magnificent train," observed the 
old engineer, as the two men stood looking 
at the Limited. 

"Finest in all the West," the Philosopher re- 
plied. " Open from the tank to the tail-lamps : 
all ablaze with electric lights; just like the At- 
lantic liners we read about in the magazines. 
Ever been on one of those big steamers, Dan ?" 
**No, and I never want to be. Never get 
me out o' sight o' land. Then they're too 
blamed slow; draggin' along in the dark- 
ness, eighteen and twenty miles an hour, 
and nowhere to jump." 
"And yet they say we kill more people 
than they do." 

" I know they say so," said the engineer, 
" but they kill 'em so everlastingly dead. A 
man smashed up in a wreck on the road 
may recover, but a man drowned a thou- 
sand miles from anywhere has no show." 

[ 234 ] 



ITS^ 



^ CHAPTEB. XXIV 5^ 



r, while 
jmained 

ved the 
looking 

Dpher re- 
[l-lamps : 
e the At- 
affazines. 
SjDan?" 
[ever get 
py're too 
le dark- 
an hour, 

•e people 

engineer, 
dead. A 

the road 
a thou- 
Ihow." 



Patsy, coming from the station, joined the 
two dead-heads, and Moran, glancing at his 
watch, asked the cause of delay. 
" Waiting for a party of English tourists," 
said Patsy ; " they 're coming over the Grand 
Trunk, and the storm has delayed them." 
"And that same storm will delay you to- 
night, my boy, if I 'm any guesser," observed 
the old engineer. " I 'd go over and ride with 
Guerin, but I 'm afraid he would n't take 
it well. That engine is as quick as chain- 
lightning, and with a greasy rail like this 
she'll slip going down hill, and the more 
throttle he gives her the slower she'll go. 
And what 's more, she '11 do it so smoothly, 
that, blinded by the stoi-m, he'U never 
know she 's slipping till she tears her fire all 
out and comes to a dead stall." 
The old engineer knew just how to prevent 
all that, but he was afraid that to offer any sug- 
gestion might wound the pride of the young 
man, whom he did not know very well. True, 
he had asked the master-mechanic to put 

[ 2iio ] 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT Sfr 



P 



m 



Guerin on the run, but only because he dis- 
liked the Reading man who was next in line. 
Mrs. Moran came from the car now, and 
asked to be taken to the engine where she 
and her daughter might say good-bye to 
Bennie who was now the regular fireman 
on Blackwings. "Bennie," said his step- 
father, " see that your sand-pipes are open." 
While Bennie talked with his mother and 
sister, Moran chatted with the engineer. " I 
want to thank you," said Guerin, " for help- 
ing me to this run during your absence, and 
I shall try to take good care of both Bennie 
and Blackwings." 

" It is n't worth mentioning," said Moran 
with a wave of his hand, "they do these 
things to suit themselves." 
Now, if she 's got any tricks," said Guerin, 
I'd be glad to know them, for I don't 
want to disgrace the engine by losing time. 
I 've been trying to pump the boy, but he 's 
as close as a clam." 

" Well, that 's not a common fault with fire- 

[ 236 ] 



(( 



(( 



"i^ 



h» 



^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



he dis- 
in line. 
)W, and 
lere she 
-bye to 
fireman 
IS step- 
5 open." 
;her and 
neer. " I 
for help- 
nee, and 
1 Bennie 

Moran 
lo these 

Guerin, 
I tion't 

Ing time. 

Ibut he 's 

rith fire- 



men," said Moran, with his quiet smile. 
" The only thing T can say about Black- 
wings," he went on, for he had been aching 
to say it, ** is that she 's smart, and on a rail 
like this you '11 have to humor her a little — 
drop her down a notch and ease up on the 
throttle, especially when you have a heavy 
train. She 's mighty slippery." 
Guerin thanked him for the tip, and the old 
engineer, feeling greatly relieved, went back 
to where Patsy and the Philosopher were 
" railroading." They had been discussing the 
vestibule. The Philosopher had remarked 
that recently published statistics established 
the fact that when a solid vestibuled train 
into collision with an old-fashioned 



came 

open train of the same weight, the latter 
would go to splinters while the vestibuled 
train would remain intact, on the principle 
that a sleeping car is harder to wreck when 
the berths are down, because they brace the 
structure. " The vestibule," continued the 
Philosopher, "is a hfe-saver, and a great 

[ 237 ] 







i— wmWwiMiiiiiHir'i 'i "'^ 





^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

comfort to people who travel first class, but 
this same inventor, who has perfected so 
many railway appliances, has managed in 
one way or another to help all mankind. 
He has done as much for the tramp as for 
the millionaire. Take the high wheel, for in- 
stance. Why, I remember when I was ' on 
the road ' that you had to get down and 
crawl to get under a sleeper, and sit doubled 
up like a crawfish all the while. I remember 
when the Pennsylvania put on a lot of big, 
twelve- wheeled cars. A party of us got to- 
gether under a water tank down near Pitts- 
burgh and held a meeting. It was on the 
Fourth of July and we sent a copy of our 
resolutions to the president of the sleeping 
car company at Chicago. The report was 
written with charcoal upon some new shin- 
gles which we found near, and sent by ex- 
press, * collect.' I remember how it read : 
*At the First Annual Convention of the 
Tramps' Protective Association of North 
America, it was 

[ 238 ] 



aa 



ass, but 
cted so 
aged in 
lankind. 
p as for 
1, for in- 
was ' on 
)wn and 
doubled 
^member 
)t of big, 
s got to- 
par Pitts- 
s on the 
)y of our 

sleeping 
port was 
lew shin- 
it by ex- 
Iread : 
of the 

)f Noi-th 



^ CHAPTER XXIV S^ 

^Resolved: That this union feels itself deeply 
indebted to the man who has introduced 
upon American railways the high wheel and 
the triple truck. And be it further 
^Resolved: That all self-respecting mem- 
bers of this fraternity shall refrain from 
riding on, or in any way encouraging, such 
slow-freight lines as may still hold to the 
old-fashioned, eight-wheeled, dirt-dragging 
sleeper, blind to their own interest and dead 
to the world.' " 

" All aboard," cried Patsy, and the Denver 
Limited left Chicago just ten minutes late. 
The moment they had passed beyond the 
shed the storm swept down from the North- 
west and plastered the wet snow against the 
windows. Slowly they worked their way out 
of the crowded city, over railway crossings, 
between guarded gates, and left the lights 
of Chicago behind them. The scores of pas- 
sengers behind the double-glassed windows 
chatted or perused the evening papers. 
Nearly all the male members of the English 

[ 239 ] 



■PBBBHB* 



SSB 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 






party had crowded into the smoking-rooms 
of the sleepers to enjoy their pipes. Patsy, 
after working the train, sat down to visit 
with the Morans. The old engineer had 
been hurt in a wreck and the company had 
generously given him a two months' leave 
of absence, with transportation and full 
pay, and he was going to spend the time 
in Southern California. The officials were 
beginning to share the opinion of Mr. 
Watchem, the famous detective who had 
declared, when Moran was in prison, that 
he ought to be wearing a medal instead of 
handcuffs. He had battled, single-handed 
and alone, with a desperado who was all 
fenced about with firearms, saved the com- 
pany's property arid, it might be, the lives 
of passengers. Later he had taken the dyna- 
mite from the engine to prevent its explod- 
ing, wrecking the machine and killing the 
crew. And rather than inform upon the 
wretch who had committed the crime he 
had gone to jjrison, and had borne disgrace. 

[ 240 ] 



[T^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



r-rooms 
Patsy, 
to visit 
ser had 
any had 
is' leave 
,nd fuU 
he time 
lis were 
of Mr. 
vho had 
ion, that 
istead of 
•handed 
was all 
;he corn- 
he lives 
|he dyna- 
explod- 
ling the 
pon the 
;rime he 
lisgrace. 



With the exception of Patsy, Moran, and 
his wife, none of the passengers gave a 
thought to the "fellows up ahead." Before 
leaving Chicago Guerin had advised the 
youthful fireman to stretch a piece of bell- 
rope from the cab to the tank to prevent 
him from falling out through the gangway, 
for he intended to make up the ten minutes 
if it were in the machine. The storm had 
increased so that the rail had passed the 
slippery stage, for it is only a damp rail 
that is greasy. A very wet rail is almost 
as good as a dry one, and Blackwings was 
picking hei train up beautifully. This was 
the engine upon which Guerin had made 
his maiden trip as fireman, and the thought 
of that dreadful night saddened him. Here 
was where Cowels sat when he showed him 
the cruel message. Here in this very win- 
dow he had held him, and there was the 
identical arm-rest over which hung the 
body of the dead engineer. And this was 
his boy. How the years fly! He looked at 

[ 241 ] 



1 1 .,4U.i"« 



% 
■it 





^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

the boy, and the boy was looking at him 
with his big, sad eyes. The furnace door 
was ajar, and the cab was as Ught as day. 
Guerin had always felt that in some vague 
way he was responsible for Cowels's death, 
and now the boy's gaze made him uncom- 
fortable. Already the snow had banked 
against the windows on his side and closed 
them. He crossed over to the fireman's side, 
and looked ahead. The headlight was almost 
covered, but they were making good time. 
He guessed, from the vibration that marked 
the revolutions of the big drivers, that she 
must be making fifty miles an hour. Now 
she began to roll, and her bell began to 
toll, like a distant church-bell tolUng for 
the dead, and he crossed back to his own 
side. Both Moran and Patsy were pleased 
for they knew the great engine was doing 
her work. "When one of these heavy 
sleepers stops swinging," said Patsy, "and 
just seems to stand still and shiver, she's 
going ; and when she begins to slam her 

[ U2 ] 



tlTS«^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



; at him 
ice door 
; as day. 
[le vague 
j's death, 
L uncom- 
banked 
id closed 
lan's side, 
as almost 
ood time, 
it marked 
, that she 
our. Now 
jegan to 
olHng for 
his own 
pleased 
vas doing 
se heavy 
;sy, "and 
ver, she's 
slam her 



•e 



flanges up against the rail, first one side 
and then the other, she has passed a sixty- 
mile gait, and that 's what this car is doing 
now." 

Mrs. Moran said good-night, and disap- 
peared behind the silken curtain of '* lower 
six," where her little girl was already sound 
asleep. Only a few men remained in the 
smoking-rooms, and they were mostly Eng- 
lish. 

Steam began to flutter from the dome 
above the back of Blackwings. The fireman 
left the door on the latch to keep her cool 
and save the water ; the 'jngineer opened 
the injector a little wider to save the steam ; 
the fireman closed the door again to keep 
her hot ; and that 's the way men watch each 
other on an engine, to save a drop of water 
or an ounce of steam, and that's the best 
trick of the trade. 

Guerin looked out at the fireman's window 
again. The headlight was now entirely 
snowed in and the big black machine was 

[ 243 ] 



«*•- 



I ,fimw 



mm 



t 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT ^ 

poking her nose into the night at the rate of 
a mile a minute. 

'* My God I how slie rolls," said Guerin, go- 
ing back to his place again. Of a sudden she 
began to quicken her pace, as though the 
train had parted. She might be slipping — 
he opened the sand lever. No, she was hold- 
ing the rail, and then he knew that they 
had tipped over Zero Hill. He cut her back 
a notch, but allowed the throttle to remain 
wide open. Bennie saw the move and left 
the door ajar again. He knew where they 
were and wondered that Guerin did not 
ease off a bit, but he had been taught by 
Moran to fire and leave the rest to the en- 
gineer. Guerin glanced at his watch. He 
was one minute over-due at Zero Junction, 
a mile away. At the end of another minute 
he would have put that station behind him, 
less than two minutes late. He was making 
a record for himself. He was demonstrating 
that it is the daring young driver who has 
the sand to go up against the darkness as 

[ 244 ] 




^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



fast as wheels can whirl. He wished the 
snow was off the headlight. He knew the 
danger of slamming a train through stations 
without a ray of light to warn switchmen 
and others, but he could not bring himself 
to send the boy out to the front end in 
that storm the way she was rolling. And 
she did roll ; and with each roll the bell 
tolled I tolled ! I like a church bell tolling 
for the dead. The snow muffled the rail, and 
the cry of the whistle would not go twenty 
rods against that storm ; and twenty rods, 
when you 're making a mile and a half in 
a minute, gives barely time to cross your- 
self. 

About the time they tipped over the hill 
the night yard master came from the tele- 
graph office, down at the junction, and 
twirled a white light at a switch engine that 
stood on a spur with her nose against an 
empty express car. '* Back up," he shouted : 
" and kick that ^ar in on the house track." 
" The Limited 's due in a minute," said the 

[ 245 ] 



m 



SB 



(^ 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT 5^ 

switch engineer, turning the gauge himp 
upon his watch. 

"Well, you're runnin' the engine — I'm 
runnin' the yard," said the official, giving 
his lamp another whirl, and the engine with 
the express car backed away. The yard mas- 
ter unbent sufficiently to say to the switch- 
man on the engine that the Limited was 
ten minutes late, adding, that she would 
probably be fifteen at the junction, for it 
was storming all along the hne. The snow 
had packed in about the switch-bridle and 
made it hard to move, but finally, with 
the help of the fireman, the switch was 
turned, and the yard engine stood on the 
main ' ack. The engineer glanced over his 
shoulder, but there was nothing behind him 
save the storm-swept night. Suddenly he 
felt the earth tremble, and, filled with inde- 
scribable horror, he pulled the whistle open 
and leaped through the window. The cry 
of the yard engine was answered by a wild 
shriek from Blackwings. Guerin closed the 

[ 246 ] 



lTh» 



^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



;e 



lamp 



le — I'm 
I, giving 
;ine with 
ard mas- 
; switch- 
ited was 
le would 
m, for it 
'he snow 
ridle and 
^lly, with 
itch was 
d on the 
over his 
hind him 
denly he 
rith inde- 
stle open 
The cry 
y a wild 
osed the 



throttle, put on the air and opened the sand- 
valves. The sound of that whistle, blown 
back over the train, fell upon the ears of 
Patsy and the two dead-heads, and filled 
them with fear. A second later they felt the 
clamp of brake-shoes applied with full force ; 
felt the grinding of sand beneath the wheels, 
and knew that something was wrong. The 
old engineer tore the curtains back from 
"lower six," and spread out his arms, pla- 
cing one foot against the foot of the berth, 
and threw himself on top of the two sleep- 
ers. Patsy and the Philosopher braced them- 
selves against the seat in front of them, and 
waited the shock. Bennie heard the whistle, 
too, and went out into the night, not know- 
ing where or how he would light. Young 
Guerin had no time to jump. He had work 
to do. His left hand fell from the whistle- 
rope to the air-brake, and it was applied 
even while his right hand shoved the throt- 
tle home, and opened the sand- valves — and 
then the crash came. Being higher built, 

[ 247 ] 



'W 





% 



^ SNOW ON THE HEADLIGHT S^ 

Blackwings shot right over the top of the 
yard engine, turned end for end, and lay 
with her pilot under the mail car, which 
was telescoped into the express car. The 
balance of the train, surging, straining, and 
trembling, came to a stop, with all wheels 
on the rail, thanks to the faithful driver, 
and the open sand-pipes. The train had 
scarcely stopped when the conductor and 
the two dead-heads were at the engine, 
searching, amid the roar of escaping steam, 
for the engine crew. A moment later Ben- 
nie came Hmping in from a neighboring 
field where he had been wallowing in a 
snow-drift. The operator, rushing from the 
station, stumbled over the body of a man. 
It was Guerin. When the engine turned 
over he had been hurled from the cab 
and slammed up against the depot, fifty 
feet away. The rescuers, searching about 
the wreck, shouted and called to the occu- 
pants of the mail car, but the wail of the 
wounded engine drowned their voices. In a 

[ 248 ] 




HTS€^ 



^ CHAPTER XXIV ^ 



ip of the 
and lay 
ir, which 
car. The 
ning, and 
II wheels 
j1 driver, 
:rain had 
ictor and 
2 engine, 
ng steam, 
ater Ben- 
ighboring 
' 5 in a 
from the 
>f a man. 
le turned 
the cab 
pot, fifty 
g about 
he occu- 
il of the 
ces. In a 



little while both men were rescued almost 
unhurt. Now all the employees and many 
passengers gathered about the engineer. The 
station master held Guerin's head upon hi ^ 
knee, while Moran made a hasty eximina- 
tion of his hurt. There was scarcely a bone 
in his body that was not broken, but he was 
still alive. He opened his eyes slowly, and 
looked about. " I 'm cold ! " he said dis- 
tinctly. Patsy held his white light close to 
the face of the wounded man. Plis eyes 
seemed now to be fixed upon something 
far away. " Mercy, but I 'm cold ! " he said 
pathetically. Now all the women were weep- 
ing, and there were tears in the eyes of most 
of the men. " Raise him up a little," said 
Moran. " It s getting dark," said the dying 
man, "Oh, 60 dark ! It must be the snow — " 
and he closed his eyes again — "snow — on 
— the headlight." 

THE END 




tt 




THE STORY of the WEST SERIES. 

Edited by Ripley Hitchcock. 
Each, Illusti^ated, 12jno, cloth, $1.50. 

THE STORY OF THE RAH.ROAD. 

By Cy Warm an, author of ^^ The Express Messenger^'' 

etc. With Maps, and many Illustrations by B. West 

Clinedinst and from Photogi'aphs. 

As we understand it, the editor's ruling idea in this series has 
not been to present chronology or statistics or set essays on the 
social and political development of the great West, but to give 
to us vivid pictures of the life and the times in the period of 
great development, and to let us see the men at their work, 
their characters, and their motives. The choice of an author 
has been fortunate. In Mr. Warman's book we are kept con- 
stantly reminded of the fortitude, the suffering, the enterprise, 
and the endurance of the pioneers. We see the glowing imagi- 
nation of the promoter, and we see the engineer scouting the 
plains and the mountains, fighting the Indians, freezing and 
starving, and always full of a keen enthusiasm for his work 
and of noble devotion to his duty. The construction train and 
the Irish boss are not forgotten, a.nd in the stories of their 
doings we find not only courage and adventure, bat wit and 
humor. — The Railroad Gazette. 

THE STORY OF THE COWBOY. 

By E. Hough, author qf^^ Tlie Singing Mouse Stories,"" 
etc. Illw^rated by William L. Wells and C. M. Russell. 

Mr. Hough is to be thanked for having written so excellent a 
book. The cowboy story, as this author has told it, will be the 
cowboy's fitting eulogy. This volume will be consulted in years 
to come as an authority on past conditions of the far West. For 
'^ine literary work the author is to be highly complimented, 
ilere, certainly, we have a choice piece of writing. — New York 
Times. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



* 



THE STORY OF THE MINE. 

As Illustrated hy the Great Comstock Lode of Nevada. 
By Charles Howard Shinn. 

Mr. Shinn writes from . . . such acquaintance as could only 
be gained by familiarity with the men and the places describea, 
. . . and by the fullest appreciation of the pervading spirit of 
the Western mining camps of yesterday and to-day. Thus his 
book has a distinctly human interest, apart from its value as 
a treatise on things material. — Review of Reviews. 

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN. 

By George Bird Grinnell, author qf^' Pawnee Hero 
Stories^'''' " Blackfoot Lodge Tales,'''' etc. 

Only an author qualified by personal experience could offer us 
a profitable study of a race so alien from our own as is the In- 
dian in thought, feeling, and culture. Only long association 
with Indians can enable a wliite man measurably to compre- 
hend their thoughts and enter into their feelings. Such associa- 
tion has been IVlr. Grinnell's. — New York Sun. 



^ 



Books by Graham Travers, 
WINDYHAUGH. 

A Novel. By Graham Travers, author of " Mona 

Maclean. Medical Student,"^ " Fellow Travellers^'' etc. 

12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

" Windyhaugh " shows an infinitely more mature skill and more 
subtle humor than " Mona Maclean " and a profounder insight 
into hfe. The psychology in Dr. Todd's remarkable book is all 
of the right kind ; and there is not in English fiction a more 
careful and penetrating analysis of the evolution of a woman's 
nind than is given in Wilhelmina Galbraith ; but " Windy- 
haugh" is not a book in which there is only one "star" and 
a crowd of "supers." Every character is limned with a con- 
scientious care that bespeaks the true artist, and the analytical 
interest of the novel is rigorously kept in its proper place and 



f' Nevada. 



could only 
s described, 
ing spirit of 
ly. Thus his 
its value as 



iwnee Hero 

etc. 

;ould offer us 
I as is the In- 
g association 
y to compre- 
Such associa- 



'\S, 



of " Mcma 
\vellerSi' etc. 



Lkill and more 
bunder insight 
\Ae book is all 
fiction a more 
[ of a woman's 
3ut "Windy- 
"star" and 
p with a con- 
[the analytical 
Iper place and 



is only one element in a delightful story. It is a supremely in- 
terestmg and wholesome booK, and in an age when excellence 
of technique has reached a remarkable level, " Windyhaugh " 
compels admiration for its brilliancy of style. Dr. Todd paints 
on a large canvas, but she has a true sense of proportion. — 
BlackwoocVs Magazine. 

For truth to life, for adherence to a clear line of action, for 
arrival at the point toward which it has aimed from the first, 
such a book as " Windyhaugh " must be judged remarkable. 
There is vigor and brilliancy. It is a book that must be read 
from the beginning to the end and that it is a satisfaction to 
have read. — Boston Journal. 

Its easy style, its natural characters, and its general tone of 
earnestness assure its author a high rank among contemporary 
novelists. — Chicago Tribune. 

MONA MACLEAN. 

Medical Student. 12mo. Paper, SO cents. Cloth, $1.00. 

A pleasure in store for you if you have no' read this volume. 
The author has given us a thoroughly natural series of events, 
and drawn her characters like an artist. It is the story of a 
woman's struggles with her own soul. She is a woman cf re- 
source, a strong woman, and her career is interesting from 
beginning to end. — New York Herald. 

"Mona Maclean" is a bright, healthful, winning story. — New 
York Mail and Express. 
A high-bred comedy. — New York Times. 

FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 

Wmo. Paper, 50 cents. Cloth, $1.00. 

The stories are well told ; the literary style is above the aver- 
age, and the character drawing is to be particularly praised. 
. . . Altogether, the little book is a model of its kind, and its 
reading will give pleasure to people of taste. — Boston Saturday 
Evening Gazette. 

"Fellow Travellers" is a collection of very brightly written 
tales, all dealing, as the title implies, with the mutual relations 
of people thrown together casually while travelling. — London 
Saturday Review. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



^M\ 




**A Hook' that will Live,'' 
DAVID HARUM. 

A Story qf American Life. By Edward No yes West- 
coTT, 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

Thoroughly a pure, original, and fresh American type. David 
Haruin is a character whose qualities of mind anci heart, ec- 
centricities, and dry humor will win for his creator noble dis- 
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In its vividness and force the story is a strong, fresh picture of 
American life. Original and true, it is worth the same distinc- 
tion which is accorded the genre pictures of peculiar types and 
places sketched by Mr. George W. Cable, Mr. Joel Chandler 
Harris, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page, Miss Wilkins, Miss Jewett, 
Mr. Garland, Miss French, Miss Murfree, Mr. Gilbert Parker, 
Mr. Owen Wister, and Bret Harte. — Boston Herald. 

Mr. Westcott has done for central x^ew York what Mr. Cable, 
Mr. Page, and Mr. Harris have done for different parts of the 
South, and what Miss Jewett and Miss Wilkins are doing for 
New England, and Mr. Hamlin Garland for the West. . . . 
"David Harum" is a masterly delineation of an American 
type. . . . Here is life with all its joys and sorrows. . . . 
David Harum lives in these pages as he will live in the mind 
of the reader. . . . He de>erves to be known by all good 
Americans ; he is one of them in boundless energy, in large- 
heartedness, in shrewdness, and in humor. — Tlie Critic. 

True, strong, and thoroughly alive, with a humor like that of 
Abraham Lincoln and a nature as sweet at the core. — Boston 
Literary World. 

We give Edward Noyes Westcott his true place in American 
letters — placing him as a humorist next to Mark Twain, as a 
master of dialect above Lowell, as a descriptive writer equal to 
Bret Harte, and, on the whole, as a novelist on a par with the 
best of those who live and have their being in the heart of 
hearts of American readers. If the author is dead — lamentable 
fact — his book will hve. — Philadelphia Item. 

The main character . . , will probably take his place in time 
beside Joel Chandler Harris's and Thomas Nelson Page's and 
Miss Willdns's creations. — Chicago Times-Herald. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



" r 



^OYES WeST- 



in type. David 
anci heart, ec- 
ator noble dis- 
ominant notes, 
fresh picture of 
; same distinc- 
uliar types and 
Joel Chandler 
3, Miss Jewett, 
jilbert Parker, 
raid. 

hat Mr. Cable, 
nt parts of the 
i are doing for 
he West. . . . 
an American 
sorrows. . . . 
^e in the mind 
n by all good 
ergy, in large- 
e Critic. 

or like that of 
core. — Boston 



^- B. Updike 

The Merrymount Pres& 

lOJf Chestnut St. 

Boston 



e in American 
rk Twain, as a 
writer equal to 
a par with the 
n the heart of 
d — lamentable 



1 place in time 
5on Page's and 
d. 

i:W YORK. 



